


Boys Like Us

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:50:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: McKinley is a reform school. Bad boy!Kurt•••Standing directly behind the iron bars, looking down at him was a tall, slender boy with the palest skin that Blaine had ever seen. Unlike the other boys, whose uniforms were oversized to emphasise some sort of thug-esque look, his was neat and well-fitted. His sweatshirt was unzipped, and despite the boy's lean chest, Blaine could see defined muscles through his white cotton t-shirt.'You should fuck that one, Hummel, he's pretty!' yelled one of the students, and they laughed again. The boy, who Blaine could only name as Hummel, ignored them and fixed his piercing blue eyes down on to Blaine.'See something you like, honey?' His voice was smooth but came with a hint of mockery. Blaine realised he had been staring at the other boy with his mouth slightly open. He looked away and quickly picked up his satchel, grasping at fallen books in his other hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost.

Blaine Anderson cursed quietly to himself as he watched his afternoon bus speed away from the entrance to Dalton Academy. As always, he had two options. One: call his father and wait in the school library until the allocated time, receiving no apology when his father turned up over an hour late. Or two: walk five minutes to the nearest community bus stop to get home. This would be taking a route that many Dalton students feared to tread as it passed the infamous McKinley reform school.

  
The teachers of Dalton often used McKinley as a scapegoat for punishment when misbehaviour presented itself in class, as in ' _Do that again next time and I'll make sure you'll be sent to McKinley!_ ' It worked every time. Located on a corner, the school (known by its full name as William McKinley Correctional School for Boys and Girls) was situated next to the only sidewalk available, unless one dared to venture out on to the main road. The outside exercise area of the boys' school backed out onto the sidewalk, surrounded by a black iron fence. In the unfortunate event that any Dalton student were to pass by while the boys had their free time, the boys of McKinley were not hesitant to throw out as many taunts as they could. It just so happened that it would be the afternoon that Blaine decided not to wait around for his father.  
  
_Oi, we've got a Dalton faggot passing through!_  
  
_Can't afford to pay for a ride home, rich boy?_  
  
Blaine kept his head down and walked straight ahead as the jeers and obscenities continued. Only briefly did he turn his head to one side to see where they were coming from. Through the iron bars, he glimpsed a group of boys hanging around the steps leading up to the school building, watching him. All of them wore variations of the same standard McKinley uniform: a navy blue hooded zip sweatshirt, a white t-shirt and navy track pants. A Mohawk hairstyle caught his attention briefly, before its owner shouted, ' _Nice blazer, dipshit_ ' and the group around him burst into laughter. Blaine quickly tore his eyes away, not before hearing ' _Hey, where the fuck is Hummel? I'm sure he'd want to see this one._ ' As the iron fence ended, replaced by the brick wall of a residential home, Blaine exhaled in relief.  
  
The following day, Blaine had remained after class to discuss the results of his Literature essay, and once again was late for his afternoon bus. After calling his father and receiving the usual spiel from his secretary (' _He's in a meeting, try calling back an hour later_ '), Blaine trudged down to the second bus stop, his satchel almost at breaking point from the heavy load of recommended reading. As he rounded the corner, he prayed that he would receive respite from all that had occurred the day before, but he had no such luck.  
  
_Hey, it's him! He's back!_  
  
_Lost your way again, dickhead?_  
  
_It's the short one from yesterday – Hummel, come take a look!_  
  
He increased his stride but in doing so, heard a loud rip from the bottom of his satchel. To his horror, the contents spilled out onto the sidewalk - Keats, Whitman et. al. – and he quickly bent down to retrieve them as ridicule rang loud and clear in his ears. Only when he reached forward to claim the last text did he feel a presence standing a few feet away from him, and he directed his eyes upwards.  
  
Standing directly behind the iron bars, looking down at him was a tall, slender boy with the palest skin that Blaine had ever seen. Unlike the other boys, whose uniforms were oversized to emphasise some sort of thug-esque look, his was neat and well-fitted. His sweatshirt was unzipped, and despite the boy's lean chest, Blaine could see defined muscles through his white cotton t-shirt.  
  
' _You should fuck that one, Hummel, he's pretty!_ ' yelled one of the students, and they laughed again. The boy, who Blaine could only name as Hummel, ignored them and fixed his piercing blue eyes down on to Blaine.  
  
'See something you like, honey?' His voice was smooth but came with a hint of mockery. Blaine realised he had been staring at the other boy with his mouth slightly open. He looked away and quickly picked up his satchel, grasping at fallen books in his other hand. He heard a female voice yelling from inside the school building and saw the group trudging back inside, giving glances back to the fence. Blaine straightened up as the other boy remarked: 'You have pretty eyelashes.'  
  
' _Porcelain!_ ' A woman with blonde hair and a dark tracksuit yelled out to him from the top of the stairs that led inside the school.  
  
'On my way,' he replied in a singsong voice. He continued staring at Blaine as he backed away from the fence, giving a sly smile as he turned around and strode towards the direction of the school building. Seeing the woman trying to catch a glimpse of him, Blaine moved down the sidewalk until both she and McKinley were out of sight. His heart was beating more forcefully than usual, and he knew it was not the taunts and jeers that had caused it.  
  
On Friday afternoon, Blaine didn't miss the bus; the bus missed him. Questioning his sanity as he muttered under his breath, he was surprised to hear silence instead of the usual loud obscenities as he approached McKinley on his route. A bigger surprise awaited him as he turned the corner – to find the pale-skinned boy leaning against the fence on the  _outside_  sidewalk.  
  
He had wanted to stop then and there and turn around, as he had always done whenever he sensed danger. But he persisted, ambling down the sidewalk slowly as he felt his heart rate begin to increase. As he edged closer, he noticed that the boy was not in uniform but instead was dressed in black skinny jeans, calf-high black boots with buckles and a cream jacket. He was also twirling what looked like a wooden drumstick in his right hand. Holding his breath as he walked past, Blaine heard said object clatter to the ground. Seeing that he had a firm grip on the drumstick before, Blaine thought it unusual that the other boy had let it drop directly in front of his path.  
  
'If you don't mind picking that up.' It was more of a demand than a request.  
  
Hesitating, Blaine reached over and retrieved the drumstick – as he had been taught at Dalton that helping others was the polite thing to do - before handing it out for the other boy to take. The other boy looked at him curiously before reaching out his slender hand, slowly and gently pulling it away from him. Blaine stood, opening his mouth to say something, anything to break the silence. But words failed him, and he made a move to turn away.  
  
'So what's your name?' This time, it sounded more of a request, and Blaine couldn't say no to a request.  
  
'Blaine Anderson.' He knew he shouldn't have given out his last name, but again, it was the polite thing to do, as was his next choice of words. 'And yours?'  
  
A look of bewilderment flashed in the eyes of the other boy, but it vanished so quickly that Blaine thought he had imagined it. 'Kurt Hummel.'  
  
He could sense that the air was clear for a conversation. 'So how come you're-'  
  
'Out?' Kurt began to twirl the drumstick in his fingers again. 'I get day release every two weeks.' He curled his lip in attempt of a smile. 'I'm not all bad.'  
  
Blaine noticed he was staring at Kurt again, and averted his eyes to distract himself. 'Where did you get that?' he asked, motioning to the drumstick in Kurt's hand.  
  
'I… _borrowed_  it,' Kurt replied, placing heavy emphasis on the word  _borrowed_. 'From Finn Hudson. Need to remind him and the others every now and again that I have the upper hand.' He stopped to admire the object at arm's length. 'Otherwise they walk all over you.'  
  
Blaine nodded in understanding. 'Do you play?'  
  
'The drums? No. They put everyone with any shred of a musical disposition in the one class. Our teaching instructor is obsessed with Journey and that's all we ever get to do. Then again, he is known for being a conceited prick.'  
  
'So, what do you play?' Blaine asked, ignoring the fact that Kurt had called just his teacher a conceited prick.  
  
'I don't. I sing.'  
  
'With them?'  
  
Kurt scoffed. 'No. I don't give them that pleasure.'  
  
Blaine didn't know what to say after that, though he did now know that he and Kurt had singing in common. Unlike Kurt, singing with others gave Blaine a lot of pleasure. Being a part of the Warblers was one of the perks of attending Dalton Academy.  
  
'I'm curious…' said Kurt, stepping around so that his body was facing Blaine's. '…as to why you've walked by here again. For the third time this week.' His eyes danced as he looked at Blaine, resuming to twirl the drumstick with his fingers again. 'I'm beginning to think that you came here on purpose.'  
  
Blaine swallowed, and he blurted out his answer without thinking. 'I had to stay back and I missed the bus and the nearest one is around here.'  
  
Kurt stopped, holding the drumstick still before placing it in the pocket of his jacket. 'Good. You see, I've always had a thing for Dalton boys.' He reached to clasp at an iron bar of the fence between them and edged himself closer. Being only inches away, Blaine braced himself for the stench of cigarette smoke that he would imagine would come from hanging around with a group of delinquents, but it never came. Instead, his senses were greeted with vanilla and the faint scent of cinnamon spice. 'They make them exactly how I like them – dapper and  _straight_.'  
  
Blaine knew he should have said something to correct him, but for his own safety he found it best to keep his mouth shut as Kurt leaned in even closer.  _Too_ close. 'And you're no exception.'  
  
He was saved the trouble as a car drove by, stopping further down by the sidewalk and sounding its horn. Kurt drew back from him and looked behind Blaine to the rear of the car.  
  
'That would be my ride,' Kurt said, pushing himself off the fence. 'See you around, Dalton boy.'  
  
Blaine tried not to watch as the car pulled away from the kerb. Instead, his attention was caught by a small satchel propped up against the fence. He looked around; Kurt would have noticed by now that his satchel was missing. Blaine wondered whether it was bad manners to open it, but curiosity got the better of him. It was empty save for a plastic folder containing printed sheets. Blaine looked closely, and noticed the one thing they all had in common: they were musical lyrics. From Etta James to Liza Minnelli, the range included songs from various Broadway musicals. With the threat of study for tests over the weekend at the back of his mind, Blaine picked up the satchel and swung it over his other shoulder. He would return it, but in the meantime, Kurt Hummel would just have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

He was intrigued at the prospect of returning Kurt Hummel's satchel to him, but it had taken Blaine until Wednesday to garner enough courage to visit McKinley again. This time, he deliberately walked through the front gate to the visitor's entrance. After being buzzed in, he found himself at the school's reception, speaking to a woman seated behind a glass panel.

'I think it belongs to Kurt Hummel,' Blaine told her, holding up the satchel. 'I'm sure he'd like it back.'

The receptionist viewed it silently. 'Can you show me what's inside, please,' she answered after a while, and Blaine didn't fault her for treating him with suspicion. He opened the satchel and removed the folder, showing her that it contained nothing else.

'Visiting hours aren't for another ten minutes,' she replied, looking up at the clock on the wall. 'But seeing he doesn't get many visitors, we are willing to make an exception this time. You may hand it directly to him, if it suits you.'

'Sure.' That had been Blaine's plan all along.

'I'll get Officer Sylvester to accompany you,' she added as she picked up the phone. Less than a minute later, an officer with blonde hair greeted him, and Blaine recognised her as the woman he had seen the previous week. This time, she was in uniform; a khaki shirt and pants combination in the one shade of grey.

'You want to see Hummel, huh?' she asked Blaine, raising an eyebrow. 'Well, seeing as his alabaster skin makes him shrink from contact with direct sunlight, I guess it would be good time for you to see him in his natural environment. What do you say to that?'

Blaine couldn't say anything to that, so he just nodded.

'Okay, sweet-cheeks, follow me.'

'Wait,' Blaine replied, looking down at his uniform. One of the other perks of attending Dalton Academy was the opportunity to wear the revered blazer, as it had remained unchanged ever since the school's early beginnings. Each student was taught to have pride it in, as it represented the values of the school from the moment they placed it over their shoulders. Some took their pride a little too far; Blaine knew of students who attempted to pick up girls with it on weekends. But this was no place for pride. Hastily, he undid the button on his blazer and removed it, stuffing in unceremoniously in his own satchel.

'Smart move,' Officer Sylvester remarked. 'Off we go.'

Blaine was led up to a door made of steel bars, waiting patiently as Officer Sylvester flicked through a set of keys attached to her belt. Blaine felt that that his hand that was holding the satchel had started to sweat, and he swapped it to his other hand as the officer placed a key in the lock by the wall.

'Welcome to hell,' she announced, sliding the door across with a clang and ushering him in. 'Not really of the standard you future business investors and lawyers are used to, but to me, it's paradise.' Locking it up after him, she closed it shut and led him down to another steel door, again unlocking it to pass through. She swung the door to close it behind him, slamming it back into place when it became jammed. The sound reverberated down the corridor into an eerie silence. Blaine felt both his palms were sweating now, and he could hear the faint noise of boys talking loudly and cursing. He was grateful for the officer's running commentary on the place, even if it offered him little comfort.

'We don't often send you good folk down here, but you can tell your peers afterwards that you have seen how the other half live,' she continued, her keys jingling from her belt as Blaine struggled to keep up with her pace. 'They attend classes in the girls' building. Trust me, if I take you there, they'll eat you alive.'

She turned a corner and led him down a long corridor, this one darker and more dimly lit than the others. On either side were doors with small windows looking in which Blaine guessed were individual...well, Blaine didn't want to call them cells. The laughter and noise reached its peak and Blaine noticed that it was coming from an open room at the very end of the corridor. From a short distance, he could see a few McKinley boys standing around, supposedly watching something over at one side of the room. Another officer, a tall and robust woman with curly hair, stood guard beside it.

'Get me Kurt Hummel,' Officer Sylvester ordered. The other officer looked at Blaine curiously before slowly turning around to face the room behind her. Blaine thought she was deliberately taking her time.

'Hummel!' the officer barked, motioning to someone in the room. The noise level died down quickly and Blaine noticed a few other boys scramble over so that they were in sight of the room's entrance and Blaine. He heard whispers and sniggers, but he ignored them, moving his eyes over to the wall beside him.

'Nasty little hobbitses,' one boy with blonde hair remarked, drawing a fresh round of sniggers. Blaine focused on a small crack in the wall, noticing how the paint had started to peel away from its edges.

At least some of them are cultured, he thought.

Kurt glided out of the room and into the corridor, stopping in his tracks as he caught sight of Blaine. His eyes registered genuine surprise but it was quickly overshadowed by a look of contempt.

'I thought I had left something behind,' he murmured as he walked towards Blaine, chewing what looked like flavoured gum. His light brown hair, which had looked neat the last time Blaine saw him, was pulled back and styled upwards, giving him the appearance of one who was slightly unhinged.

Blaine cleared his throat, careful not to let his eyes linger on Kurt too much. 'I thought you'd miss your satchel,' he replied, holding it up for Kurt to retrieve. Kurt stared at him, making no movement to claim the satchel from his hand. 'By the way, I'm quite partial to Etta James.' When he realised Kurt would not budge, Blaine slowly placed it against the wall beside him, feeling Kurt's eyes still watching him.

'You gonna fuck him or what, Hummel?' yelled a boy from the room.

'Shut it!' barked Officer Sylvester beside Blaine, making him jump. She crossed over to the entrance of the room, looking in. From the way she kept her distance from the other officer, Blaine sensed that neither were on the best of speaking terms.

'You know,' Kurt purred, stepping forward slightly so that he and Blaine were the only ones in earshot. 'I've always wanted a rich, pretty little Dalton boy all to myself.'

Blaine stood motionless, willing himself not to shiver. But he drew in a sharp intake of breath as Kurt leaned forward.

'The other boys here like it rough, but I'll be gentle on you.' Kurt raised a finger to his lips, chewing slowly, his eyes taking in the sight of Blaine's white shirt and tie.

'Careful, Porcelain,' a female voice behind Kurt warned. Kurt smiled, but it came out looking smug.

'Oh, I'll be careful: I'll make sure you're well taken care of…'

Blaine bit his lip. His body certainly wasn't objecting to Kurt's suggestion, but he had to say something to counteract the offer. But the protest was caught in his throat as two hands reached over to cup his jaw and he felt a warm, mint-scented breath whisper to him softly.

'But first, let's see what you taste like.'

Blaine heard a collective sound of shouts and wolf-whistles but they faded away as a pair of soft lips came into contact with his. They pressed down on him firmly, and hungrily. Blaine's mouth parted slightly, both in instinct and surprise, and it was enough invitation for Kurt to coax his tongue in, curling around gently in Blaine's mouth, tasting him. Then he heard a loud shout from somewhere in the distance and Kurt's lips were being ripped away from him as the taller officer grabbed Kurt by the arms, pulling him back. Blaine stood in stunned silence, hearing the jeers and whistles of the other boys return to him in full force. Wordlessly, his eyes searched Kurt's face for an explanation. But Kurt responded with a victorious smirk, not resisting the officer as she held him away.

'You'd better go,' the officer called out to him, but he didn't need to be told. He turned and stormed out of the corridor as Officer Sylvester trailed close behind him. He felt something warm and moist still in his mouth, and he realized that Kurt had passed his chewing gum on to him. As soon as he greeted open air, he spat it out on the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt Hummel crossed the outside courtyard, hands dug deep in his pockets. A grey sky had lingered over McKinley the entire day and even though it was mid-afternoon, it was still unseasonably chilly. Kurt had discovered how quickly word of the previous afternoon had spread; the other boys had come up to congratulate him under the general consensus that he had given  _those Dalton faggots a taste of their own medicine_. He didn't feel proud of what he did. In fact, it made him feel worse since he knew that Blaine Anderson would never pass by McKinley again. Still, he had hoped to arrange for a way to see him, even if it was just to tease him mercilessly. The fact that Kurt had found him to be very cute certainly increased his interest in making that happen. And unlike every other boy Kurt had ever met, Blaine seemed to possess what the others did not: a good set of manners, and bravery.

Either Blaine had a lot more courage in him that Kurt had first thought, or that the officers had used him in an attempt to integrate the McKinley boys with males of their own age from the outside world. At the same time, it had the added effect of scaring off any non-McKinley boy who had ever considered committing an act of crime. Kurt had understood their reasoning behind it, but he could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy towards the other boy; he had been lured into the lion's den.

At least his satchel had been returned to him, with the music folder safely tucked away inside. To anyone else, it was just a folder with a collection of random sheet music, but to Kurt, it was his most prized possession. He had spent hours pouring over it, memorising the lyrics and the lines of notes alone in his cell. Every now and then, he managed to take a songbook from the choir room, photocopy it and return it to its rightful place without it ever seeming as though it had gone missing.

It was just unfortunate timing that Blaine had arrived while Kurt was in the midst of a hair crisis; he had run out of his favourite hair product and was forced to swipe some no-name gel off Finn Hudson while the other boy busied himself in the shower. The result was dry hair that he couldn't style properly, and a foul mood.

Did he have any regrets about kissing Blaine? Kurt smiled to himself bitterly. Four months ago, he wouldn't have said nor done such things. But his time at McKinley had hardened him up, and he had to take what he could get, even if his gesture wasn't reciprocated.

 _He deserved it,_ Kurt thought to himself, ignoring the sinking feeling in his heart that told him otherwise.

The choir room was situated in the building of the girls' school and some students were lagging behind for class as usual. As he passed through the gate that divided the boys' and girls' buildings, he wasn't surprised to see three girls by the fence, two of them smoking. Their uniform was identical to that of the McKinley boys except their zipped sweatshirts and track pants were of a dark red. They stopped mid-conversation as they became aware of him.

'Hi,' said the shortest and prettiest of the three, giving him a brief smile as a thin stream of smoke drifted from her cigarette.

Kurt nodded in reply; despite being the Queen Bee of the girls' school, Quinn seemed nice when the boys weren't around. The dark haired Latina girl next to her cleared her throat and pointed her cigarette at him.

'You know, Hummel,' she drawled, batting her mascara-soaked eyelashes slowly. 'Out of all the boys in New Directions, you're the only one I haven't fucked yet.'

'That's because I'm not your type, Santana,' he answered lazily, noting the obvious.

'But you could be.' Behind her, her best friend Brittany watched silently. Pretty and blonde, he didn't know much about her except what he had learned from the other boys, who said she was a dumb as a brick.

'I'm sure once I get you to touch me,' she continued, moving a finger down her thigh to emphasise her point. 'You'll want to change your mind.'

Kurt rolled his eyes and walked away, not before Santana clutched both her breasts and yelled,  _'You'll regret not getting some of this, Hummel!'_

When he entered the choir room, the rest of the boys had already arrived; Mike Chang had already started showing off his dance moves to Tina Cohen-Chang. Kurt absentmindedly picked up a copy of sheet music from the teacher's desk. Mr Schuester was busy filling out something in his logbook and barely acknowledged him as he took his seat. Officer Beiste stood by the whiteboard with her hands behind her back, watching the students closely.

'Girls, you're late,' Mr Schuester said to two girls entering the room. Mercedes Jones ignored him. Next to her, Lauren Zizes muttered  _'whatever'_  and unwrapped the packaging of her chocolate bar. They sat themselves down next to Kurt.

'We have four girls missing,' observed Mr Schuester, looking around the room. 'Where is Rachel Berry?'

'She tried to pick a fight with me,' said Mercedes, looking at her nails with a bored expression. 'But she got herself into lockdown.'

'Again?' Mr Schuester turned to Officer Beiste.

'Third time this week,' Officer Beiste replied.

'Hey Hummel,' said Noah Puckerman, sliding across to him. Behind him, three boys snickered. 'You've got a nice looking watch on you, which I can pull apart and put the leather to good use. So here's the deal: you give me your watch, and I'll trade you…' he held up a set of fingers. 'Four cigarettes.'

'Not interested,' Kurt replied, crossing his legs.

'Half a packet?'

'No.'

He felt a pair of eyes narrow at him. 'Suck my cock, Hummel.'

'Gladly,' Kurt replied. He looked over to the boys, who were watching with interest. 'I'll be glad to suck the lot of you.' Kurt leaned over to Noah so that he was out of earshot from the other students. 'Or would you prefer that I fuck the life out of you instead?'

It took only a brief second for a look of horror to appear on Noah's face and he backed away, rejoining the other boys and glancing back at him wearily. Kurt didn't often have to use his sexuality as a threat, but when he did, it became his most valuable weapon. Noah Puckerman had learnt that lesson early on: it took a few days of putting up with his bullying for Kurt to come up with a solution and a way to slip out of his cell. At a quarter-past eleven on a quiet Sunday night, he had awoken to find Kurt Hummel straddled on top of him. Kurt hadn't wanted to do anything, just provide a warning. It was enough for Noah to be asked to be transferred to a cell on the opposite end of the corridor while Kurt was cautioned. Kurt found that Noah showed him respect after that; it was just that he needed reminding every now and then. He had read somewhere that it was better to be feared than loved, and Kurt thought it was the best survival strategy he had. The other boys laughed and taunted him from time to time but they kept their distance; Kurt was dangerous, and he knew it

'Alright guys, settle down,' Mr Schuester called, sighing audibly as the three girls from outside meandered through the doorway, leaving the smell of cigarette smoke in their wake.

Kurt looked down at the notes of the sheet music, memorising the words underneath with swift precision. Somehow his thoughts wandered away again to the boy with the impossibly long eyelashes and the Dalton school uniform…

Kurt shook his head, as if to shake the thought from his mind.

_Stop it. You can't have him. Just like all the others that weren't yours._

He looked around the room to the rest of the boys and remembered what they had done to get themselves into McKinley: Artie, drug dealing. Mike, multiple burglaries and theft. Sam, arson and member of a vicious street gang that terrorised its residents. Finn, grand theft auto. And Noah, who had a rap sheet so long it read like the bibliography of a master's thesis. The girls' crimes were much of the same: vandalism, petty theft, domestic violence.

Kurt sunk back in his chair as Mr Schuester attempted to get the class in session, Officer Beiste screaming for quiet. He understood being at McKinley was punishment for his crime, but he could never shake the thought that crossed his mind from time to time.

_I don't belong here._


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine loved rituals. Every morning, he would spend forty-five minutes with his favourite gel to style his hair the way he like it. On Monday's, he would order a macchiato (skinny milk, no sugar) after school instead of his usual medium drip. And on Thursday nights, Blaine would shut the door to his room, turn up the sound on his speakers, and masturbate.

He counted Bach and Strauss among his favourites, and he enjoyed the tranquil strings, the sudden clashes of cymbals and the final, rapturous cessation. It was the general feeling of having an orchestra in his room while he lay on his bed, one hand gripping the sheets while he used the other to pump himself, slowly at first before gradually getting faster. He liked to keep his mind clear as he did so, focusing all his effort of the harmony of the various instruments and the energetic movements of his hand.

Blaine had never explored the prospect of dating at Dalton. He had taken three different girls out for dates when he attended public school, but he never felt he had a connection with either of them. He had kissed two of said dates, but he had felt nothing. There had been only one another boy that he knew was gay, but there was an incident involving him that made him decide to leave the school, and he did not like talking about it. Now at Dalton, he considered himself far too busy to romance anyone, what with the extended study and Warblers practise he had to contend with.

On one particular Thursday night, the day after he had made the mistake of returning the satchel to its owner at McKinley, he turned on his iPod and sank back onto his pillow, sneaking his hand down to the inside of his boxers. He gave his cock a tight squeeze and began to stroke himself as the second movement of Mendelssohn's Symphony No. 4. played to him. As his breaths became more laboured, he let his eyes flutter closed, and his thoughts drifted to a certain other individual. The same individual whose hands had caressed his jaw, whose lips had moved in earnest against his and whose moist tongue lapped at his mouth…and he felt something stirring beneath him, coming to life…

Blaine snapped his eyes open. His hand stopped mid-squeeze and he tucked himself back in to his boxers. He lifted himself off the bed and walked over to his speakers, using his unspoilt hand to quickly switch off the music. He leaned both hands on his dresser and hung his head, refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror in front of him.

…

Blaine thought he was done with Kurt Hummel, but a week later, his thoughts still continued to torment him. It came to the point where the boy had begun to invade his dreams. But instead of being kissed, he was watching through the window of a cell door as Kurt being kissed roughly by a boy with a Mohawk. His insides seethed with jealousy as the boy pushed Kurt up against a wall, Kurt gasping and moaning with pleasure. Blaine awoke that morning drenched with sweat, and he doused himself with a cold shower, shivering under the spray of water as it hit his back.

Friday came around and lifted his spirits; it was the first sign that summer was on its way. As he left the Dalton school library, he didn't even care that he had to wait around for his father. The shining sun brought warmth to the afternoon and he breezed past the landscaped lawns to the front entrance of the school. He hummed a tune to himself that he had been practising earlier that afternoon with the Warblers. As he walked through the front gate, he counted himself fortunate that he was able to leave on time to catch the bus and avoid McKinley altogether.

'Hello handsome.'

Blaine almost tripped over his own shoes as he whipped around – to find the source of his torment to the left of him, leaning against a large tree trunk.

He could not help but briefly admire the style of the boy that was Kurt Hummel; while it may have looked ridiculous on anyone else, his black waistcoat, long patterned sleeved shirt and tight black jeans suited him perfectly. A top hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but Blaine could tell that they looked delighted to see him.

But while Blaine stood, the episode that unfolded a week and a half ago came back to him as a torrent of vivid thoughts, and he remembered what the other boy had subjected him to. He felt his face stiffen and he met Kurt's gaze with his own look of loathing.

'You've got a lot of nerve coming here,' Blaine remarked, not bothering to hide the anger in his voice.

'I would have said the same thing about you last week,' Kurt replied coolly. 'I was beginning to think that I wouldn't see you again.' He lifted his top hat slightly so that his eyes were no longer shaded. 'I wish I could show you how truly delectable you are when you're upset.'

Blaine ignored his last comment. 'What do you want?'

Kurt gave Blaine a half-smile. 'I was hoping you'd be careless and miss your bus again,' he replied, gazing at Blaine with a genuine playfulness.

'My dad is picking me up.' Blaine winced at how childish he sounded. 'How did you get here?'

'Unlike you, I have my own ride.' He motioned to the curb behind him where a small green truck stood stationary.

Blaine snorted. 'Probably stolen.'

The playfulness vanished and Kurt's eyes flashed in anger. 'My father gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. He trusts me.'

'Yeah, well, just as well that he does. You put on a good performance for your friends while I was there last week.'

'They're not my friends,' Kurt replied quickly.

'Friends, cell mates, whatever. Why do it?'

Kurt was silent for a moment, and Blaine could sense that he was thinking carefully.

'It bought me at least a week of respect,' he finally responded, turning his eyes away from Blaine. 'It…was not my intention to humiliate you. I found myself much more attracted to you that I have been to anyone else. I know you may find that confronting…' His eyes turned to Blaine's again and the playfulness had returned. 'But I know what I like.'

Kurt's admission of honesty seemed to stump Blaine momentarily, and he blurted out his words before he could stop them.

'I'm not afraid of you.' He winced again.

Kurt laughed lightly, and it was a pleasant sound to Blaine's ears. 'So I've noticed. But like I said: I'm not all bad.'

'Right,' muttered Blaine. He didn't feel he could continue with the conversation. Kurt was saying something but he was trying to make sense in his mind of what had previously been said. He didn't realise Kurt had moved away from the tree until the scent of vanilla and spice hit his senses. He looked up; Kurt was slightly taller than him but no less threatening as he looked down at the lower pocket of Blaine's blazer with concern in his eyes.

'You have something on your blazer,' Kurt repeated, and he reached over to touch Blaine's blazer, picking off a speck of lint. His hand remained there, stroking the material through his fingers. The sudden gesture and the closeness of Kurt made Blaine lose his trail of thought completely, until Kurt looked at something behind Blaine, and Blaine followed his line of sight.

A familiar silver BMW had pulled up by curb. His father had arrived as promised. Blaine felt a strange tug on his blazer before it was released; Kurt had let go of it and had leaned back against the tree, looking like the picture of innocence.

'Well, what are you waiting for?' he said, observing him with amusement. 'Off you go, sweetie.'

Blaine turned and walked towards the car, hearing Kurt call out behind him: 'And I'll be seeing you again very soon.'

'Not very likely,' Blaine growled under his breath. By the time he had placed his satchel in the rear of the car and buckled up his seat belt, Kurt and his small truck had already disappeared.

As his father drove him home, both in agreed silence, Blaine leaned his hand on the left hand side of his uniform where Kurt had removed the speck of lint. He frowned as he felt a slight weight in the pocket of his blazer. Fishing his hand in, he pulled out a small watch with a brown leather band. He turned it over in his hand and after reading the engraving on its back he groaned, leaning his forehead against the passenger side window. He didn't need anyone to tell him what Property of K.H. stood for.


	5. Chapter 5

After turning his head to the other side of his pillow for the fourteenth time, Kurt decided to give up on sleep altogether. He nestled underneath the blanket on his bed, the rustle from doing so almost echoing in his quiet cell. He couldn't tell what time it was, but it couldn't have been after midnight, as the light in the outside corridor remained on; the officers always switched it off by eleven-thirty.

He counted himself lucky that he was able to get close to the gorgeous boy with the hazel eyes and gelled hair, even when said boy had previously gifted him a look of loathing. Kurt didn't blame him. Instead, he had tried to soften the blow of his previous conduct with some light banter and flirtation. And when he did manage to slip the watch in his pocket as the boy became distracted, Kurt had revelled in the warm, musky scent that could only belong to Blaine Anderson. As he mulled over the finer details of the boy – his eyes, voice and lips in particular – his hand had unwittingly left the side of the pillow and moved down to nestle inside his briefs. Kurt stopped his fingers before they were able to grasp at what they were searching for: if he was going to go any further, it needed to be done with discretion.

He knew the other boys liked to boast about pleasuring themselves before lights out, and he grimaced at the thought them doing so in full view of an officer walking past. Despite the solid concrete walls that housed each cell, the noise made whenever someone nearby was in the throes of self-expression made them seem paper-thin. Kurt knew this all too well from having his room situated next door to Finn Hudson's.

Unfortunately for Kurt, Finn's vocal expressions of his doing sounded as if he was either in agony or trying to pass a very difficult bowel movement. One night during the past week, Kurt had just barely begun to fall asleep when he heard the all-too familiar grunting through the wall to his right, this time interposed with the addition of 'Rachel…Rachel…': it made Kurt delay sleep until the activity on the other side of the wall had subsided.

Kurt reached over and grabbed a handful of tissues from his nightstand, sliding them under his pillow. As if providing further encouragement, the lights in the corridor went out, shrouding him and the room in total darkness, save for a strip of white light across his bed from an outside street lamp. He turned himself over so that he was lying on his stomach, hearing the protest of the springs in the mattress as he rested his head to one side. Again he reached down into his briefs and stroked himself once, feeling his cock already half-hard underneath him.

As he continued, he thought back to the week where he had kissed Blaine, but this time, Blaine was kissing back with want and need and desperation, desiring nothing more than Kurt' lips on his own and Kurt's tongue tangled with his. Kurt stifled a moan into his pillow; he needed to be quiet in case anyone heard and used it against him. His small, shallow breaths quickened with each stroke of his hand and he conjured up what he knew was another unlikely scenario in his mind: Blaine lowering himself down to his knees, eyes dark with lust as he kissed Kurt without meeting his lips. Then the hand that Kurt was using to stroke himself with became Blaine's tongue and then Blaine's mouth. Blaine's eyes were closed in pleasure, his eyelashes quivering as he sucked Kurt down, almost as if his life depended on it…

Kurt reached for the tissues just in time as he came, biting down hard on his lip to stifle his cry, drawing blood. He felt sweat on his forehead and chest but he quickly cleaned himself up, thankful that he was able to avoid soiling his pajamas and mattress. He drew the blanket up to his neck and rolled back over to his side, sucking the blood from his bitten lower lip. His body was satisfied but he couldn't shake the feeling that he somehow felt empty. Even so, he closed his eyes. He thought of how long it would take for Blaine Anderson to figure out that he was again in possession of an item that was not his, and would again need to return it to its owner.

As it turned out, not long at all.

…

Blaine just wanted to get it over and done with.

On Monday afternoon, he took the route to McKinley, Kurt Hummel's watch tapping against his pocket with every step he walked. When he reached the school's reception area, he was asked to sign in and leave his satchel behind. Deciding not to remove his blazer after being assured he would not be visiting the cells again, he was accompanied to the meeting area and asked to take a seat at one of the empty tables.

The meeting area was a spacious hall with a high ceiling and housed rows upon rows of aluminium tables, bench seats on either side. Unlike the living quarters of the school, it contained natural light from the windows that surrounded the vast proportion of it. A few officers stood around by the walls, keeping watch. Blaine looked around; students were seated facing their family members and the gentle hum of conversation hung in the air. To the left of him was a boy with his parents seated opposite; his head was hung and he was staring at his knees. His parents were looking at him expectantly but he didn't seem to be in the mood for talking.

Blaine straightened up as he saw Kurt walk through the door at the far end of the hall, accompanied by another officer. His pale skin and light brown hair contrasted with his navy blue tracksuit uniform, but Blaine realised how much they brought out the color of his eyes. On seeing Blaine, Kurt stopped in surprise, but a little smirk played up on his lips and he breezed over to Blaine's table, maneuvering himself around to the bench opposite him.

'Hello,' said Kurt, slowly easing himself down without taking his eyes off Blaine. 'Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?'

The staring unnerved Blaine, but even so, he reached down into his blazer and pulled out the watch, slamming it on to the table. He saw Kurt flinch at the sound it made on impact but Blaine didn't care; he slid the watch in the centre of the table so that it sat between them.

'You left this behind,' he muttered gruffly. Kurt looked down at it briefly but returned his gaze to Blaine again.

'So I did,' Kurt replied. He shifted his weight and to Blaine it looked as though he had crossed his legs under the table. 'It must have somehow…slipped from my grasp.'

Blaine opened his mouth to call his bluff, but he promptly closed it as he felt something brush his thigh.

'I knew I could count on you to return it,' Kurt continued, and Blaine felt what he now knew was Kurt's sneaker, nudging just underneath his blazer to the side of his thigh, slowly massaging the length of his trousers. Blaine moved his body away, shifting over to one side which made for a much more uncomfortable sitting angle.

'Can you please just stop?'

'Stop what?' Kurt's eyes were sparkling.

'Stop that,' Blaine demanded, annoyed.

'I'm sorry,' Kurt replied, resting his elbow on the table and placing his hand on his cheek. 'You'll have to tell me exactly-'

'Stop feeling up my leg!' Blaine hissed, his eyes shooting daggers at Kurt.

Kurt smiled sweetly. 'Very well.' Blaine felt the movement stop, but Kurt made no motion to remove his sneaker, instead resting it beside Blaine's thigh. Blaine sighed; he hadn't even spent five minutes with Kurt and he had already given up on fighting Kurt's advances.

'So what can I do for you, honey?' Kurt asked, leaning back in his seat and observing him. 'I have a few things in mind, but I'd like to hear your suggestions first.'

Blaine didn't know if there was anything he could ask him without resulting in more teasing.

'Why are you here?' Blaine said quietly, staring at the watch on the table.

'What was that?'

Blaine looked up at him. 'Why are you here? What did you do that made you get sent here? '

He felt air where Kurt's sneaker had been, and Kurt sat further back, placing both hands on the table in front of him.

'I did something I shouldn't have,' Kurt replied, moving his eyes down to his hands. 'And I have regretted it since.'

'Which was?' Blaine prompted.

'I can't tell you.' His smirk returned as he lifted his eyes away from his hands, but it seemed less pronounced this time.

Kurt liked to play games – that, Blaine was sure of. But now Blaine had a sudden idea; if everything was a game to Kurt, then there was no reason he shouldn't play along too.

'But we can talk about something else…wait, where are you going?'

'I'm leaving,' Blaine replied, standing up from his seat. He hesitated for a moment before picking up the watch in the middle of the table. 'And I'm taking this back with me. Unless, of course, you want to tell me the reason why you're at McKinley.'

Kurt stared at him and muttered something wordlessly, but his final answer was a definite 'no.'

'Suit yourself.' Blaine slid himself through the gap between the bench and the table.

'You'll have to return it at some point,' Kurt pointed out smugly, folding his hands across his chest.

Blaine could have told him that he had the power to dispose of the watch if he wanted to, but he felt that would have been too cruel.

'Fine. See you in a week,' he said instead, turning away. The smile on the other boy's face disappeared.

'One - one week? One whole week?' Blaine chose to ignore Kurt's exclamation and walked out of the hall, his hand clenched over the watch which he then slipped back into his blazer pocket.

Check, Blaine thought to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken Blaine some perseverance to stick with his word and not visit Kurt before a week had passed. He was tempted only after what had been turning out to be a fairly quiet week. Practicing with the Warblers had become less frequent after they had lost at Regionals and the formal study period for end-of-year exams was yet to commence. Despite this, Blaine knew he had set the rules of the game and he couldn't break them now, so he was determined to see it through.

When the following Monday arrived, he decided to see if he could talk to Kurt at the back of the school where the boy's exercise yard was. It would involve another act of bravery on Blaine's behalf, but it also meant that he would easily be able to get away if the other boy refused to cooperate with him again. As he walked towards the iron fence, he could hear shouting and cursing and wondered what abuse the McKinley boys would throw at him this time around.

He deliberately slowed down as he walked past the fence, casually sneaking a glance over at the other boys between the bars. They seemed to be scattered around, though there was one group he recognized near the stairs. Blaine took a deep breath and came to a stop. He stood behind the fence and turned around to face the group, holding on to his satchel with one hand. And waited. His eyes searched to see if they could recognize Kurt among them. But he did not expect two boys from the group to break away and run towards him. Blaine took a step back as the boys slammed their bodies into the fence, grasping the bars with their hands and hoisting themselves up. The taller boy was unable to stay up for long and he stepped down. The Asian boy next to him had a firmer grip and looked down at Blaine with interest.

'I'm Finn, this is Mike,' the taller boy said, pointing to himself and then the boy next to him.

'Blaine.' He was surprised at the introduction, but guessed that they didn't perceive him to be much of a threat. 'Is Kurt Hummel around?'

'I will…' replied Mike, dropping down from the fence and spinning around in one fluid motion. '…go get him.' He ran off into the exercise yard. Blaine was left alone with Finn, who was staring down at him curiously, scratching his head.

'Out of interest,' Blaine began, trying to cover up the awkward silence between them. 'Do you happen to know what Kurt did to get into your school?'

Finn shook his head. 'He hasn't told anyone.'

Blaine looked down, his resolve sinking a little as he now knew that Kurt would not let him discover his criminal past so easily. Finn opened his mouth and burped, patting his chest afterwards to dissipate it, but the action made him cough instead.

'Hey, you wanna…' Finn said, and coughed again. 'You wanna know what I got in for? I stole cars,' he answered, before Blaine could ask. 'That's how I got myself in here. Do you own a car?'

Blaine replied in the negative.

'I just stole crap ones,' he added. 'But then I saw a Bentley, and it looked awesome. I tried to drive off with it, but they caught me. So now I'm in here.'

Blaine nodded politely, wondering how long it would take for the officers to realize the students were talking with people outside.

'He doesn't want to hear your life story, Finn.'

Blaine was almost relieved that Kurt had arrived, his uniform tidy and hair coiffed perfectly; he didn't think he could take any more of Finn's story.

But Finn stood by, not taking his hands off the fence.

'Go away, Finn,' Kurt ordered. Finn gave him a funny look before releasing his grip on the fence and ambling away. Further behind Kurt, the group by the stairs had begun making kissy noises and faces towards them. Kurt's eyes were narrowed and he had his arms folded in a show of defiance, his glare at Blaine unwavering; Blaine was at once thankful for the fence that stood between them.

'I take it you're not going to tell me today?' Blaine asked him, still gripping one hand on his satchel. After a moment of silence he eventually released it and fished into his pocket, pulling out Kurt's watch. He saw a flash of recognition in Kurt's eyes and he felt the other boy watching him as he played with the leather strap, holding it between his fingers so that Kurt was able to see it but not reach it.

'I am not telling you,' Kurt said sharply, confirming Blaine's suspicions.

'He wants you, Hummel!' called a boy from the group. Blaine flushed; the taunts had started up again and he knew it was best to cut the meeting short before they became too creative. He placed the watch back into his pocket.

'Another week, then,' he said quickly, turning away and resuming his walk to the bus stop, not giving Kurt a right of reply. But Kurt did reply, muttering loud enough for Blaine to hear him.

'Try four days.'

…

Kurt doesn't visit Blaine at Dalton Academy on Friday. Blaine had left the library earlier, just in case, but the other boy was nowhere to be seen. After ten minutes, he heard the low rumble of his father's BMW pull up by the curb. He sighed as he placed his satchel down in the rear seat, but Blaine knew he shouldn't be disappointed.

Well, maybe he was.

A little.

…

He discovered the reason for Kurt's absence the following Monday afternoon. The woman behind the counter at McKinley's school reception looked down at her log book, frowning.

'I don't know if we would be allowing visitors,' she said, looking up at Blaine. 'Kurt Hummel was reprimanded for taking a music book from our choir room, effectively losing his day release privilege for one week.' She regarded Blaine for a moment. 'I suppose…all right, just go through.'

Blaine took a seat at the same table where he had spoken to Kurt previously. After a while, Kurt appeared, gliding past the row of other tables of McKinley boys and their families to where Blaine was seated. Before he managed to sit down, Blaine remarked, 'So, what was it? Theft? Because you seem like a lousy thief.'

When Kurt didn't respond, Blaine added, 'Or is that the reason why you were caught?'

'You know, I could accuse you of the same thing,' Kurt said, his voice with added bite. He drummed his slender fingers on the table, looking down at them. 'They confiscated my music folder from me.'

Ah, thought Blaine. Hence the bitter mood.

'Speaking of which,' Kurt continued, still observing his fingers on the table. 'Why don't you ask the officers as to why I'm here – I'm sure they'd be happy to say whatever lie they have about me.'

Blaine suddenly felt foolish: he hadn't thought of that. He wasn't even sure now if Kurt would ever tell him. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up with his game; Kurt certainly looked as though he had already given up.

'Well…bye,' Blaine said, standing up from his seat. Kurt looked up at Blaine, startled.

'You're leaving already?' he asked, his eyes searching Blaine's for an explanation.

'It doesn't seem like you're in the mood for talking,' Blaine responded, edging around the seat. 'I don't know why I bothered.' A look of panic flashed in Kurt's eyes.

'We – we still have twenty-five minutes,' Kurt replied, stumbling for words. 'My – my father won't be able to visit me this week, he's busy with work, he said…he said he won't be able to make it on time…'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Blaine replied, meaning it. 'I just can't…'

Can't what, Blaine? he thought to himself.

'Wait…don't go. Tell me - tell me about Dalton.' Kurt was practically out of his seat, leaning almost halfway across the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine noticed a nearby officer, watching Kurt suspiciously. He realized that Kurt was unable to leave the table without permission.

Blaine shrugged his shoulders. 'What do you want to know?'

Kurt thought for a moment, his brows furrowed in frustration. 'Is it…true…that you can request a school chauffeur to take you to school and take you home if you wanted to?'

The image of Kurt's question formed in his head, and he laughed.

'A school chauffeur?' Blaine said, still chuckling. 'Who told you that?'

Kurt scowled; clearly he did not like to be ridiculed.

'I thought it was standard practice,' he muttered quietly.

'Well, we're not that exclusive.' Blaine hesitated, but decided to return to his seat. 'There may be one or two students at the school that have their own drivers, though…'

And Blaine proceeded to tell Kurt more about Dalton: the school culture, its traditions and the many subjects on offer. Kurt sat quietly, leaning his elbows on the table and not uttering a word. Only briefly did he interrupt with a question when Blaine had paused during his talk. Before Blaine knew it, the minutes had flown by and visiting hours were over.

'Will I be seeing you again this week?' Kurt asked him as they both stood up. 'You need to tell me more about Dalton's music program.'

'I'll see if I can make it on Thursday,' Blaine said, trying to sound casual. He didn't want Kurt to think he was eager to visit too soon.

On Thursday, Blaine listened to Kurt as he talked about McKinley. Kurt told him about the bad coffee, his wish for a more challenging school curriculum and his favourite Broadway musicals; Blaine told Kurt about the Warblers, his love of football and his dream of one day meeting Katy Perry.

'Because she's hot,' Blaine quickly added after Kurt had raised an eyebrow. The watch, still nestled within Blaine's blazer pocket, quickly became forgotten.

After promising to visit again the following week, Blaine left the hall, whistling to himself as he walked out into the warm spring sunshine. He thought it was strange how he had agreed to meet with Kurt again without a moment's hesitation. The realization hit him as soon as he walked past the iron gates; he had just made a new friend.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt fixed his gaze on a corner of the chalkboard in the choir room as he thought back over the previous two weeks. The other officers had become used to seeing Blaine Anderson at McKinley, talking animatedly to Kurt in the meeting hall. Kurt had observed how they had let Blaine stay a little longer after the announcement was made for the closure of visiting hours.

'You know, I think that gel-abusing, private-schooled sprout has taken a shine to you,' Officer Sylvester commented, as she accompanied Kurt out of the meeting hall. His fellow students had also taken notice.

'Hey Hummel, where's that little Dalton bitch of yours? I haven't seen him around today,' Noah Puckerman had remarked one afternoon during free time.

'Don't call him that.'

'Why? Haven't taken him up the ass yet?'

Kurt could have counteracted with I plan to, but he was too incensed at Noah's comments to form a quick-witted response.

'Shut up, Puckerman,' he hissed.

'Make me.'

Kurt swiftly reached down and grabbed the other boy's crotch. Noah yelped and ran off, flying across to the other side of the exercise yard. Kurt felt so disgusted by his actions that he washed his hands ten times afterwards.

He had been surprised at how comfortable Blaine had become around him, brushing off Kurt's attempts at flirting with him, accepting it as something of Kurt's nature. But Kurt had ceased making snide remarks towards him, because he didn't feel the need to use them anymore. He no longer wanted to give the other boy a reason to leave.

There were aspects of McKinley that Kurt was ashamed of, such as what had occurred on Monday afternoon, halfway through visiting time. While Kurt was telling Blaine about the disgusting habits of his fellow students, a few angry shouts began from the opposite end of the hallway. A fight had broken out between two students from different tables; the officers left their posts and ran towards the scuffle as other McKinley boys joined in. Around them, family members hurried out of the hall. Kurt had jumped out of his seat, ready to join the fight, but stopped as he saw that Blaine had not left the table.

'You'd better go - this could get ugly,' Kurt had told him, fearing the other boy's safety. He saw Blaine's eyes go wide in alarm before Kurt lost sight of him in the fray. He couldn't decipher the meaning behind them – did he fear for his own safety or Kurt's? Kurt had to join the fight, otherwise he knew that insults like Hummel was too piss-weak for a punch-on would be flying around him for days.

The boy had turned out to be an unlikely ally, even a friend. Kurt found it remarkable that Blaine was still visiting him at McKinley of all places, despite being the place where he had been taken advantage of by Kurt previously. Even more remarkable was that it was he who had initiated the stories about Dalton and his daily life and listened to him when Kurt told him fragments of his.

And there was the problem; Blaine hadn't returned the watch to him. Kurt knew that the other boy would be keeping it safe in his blazer pocket. But Kurt had the feeling that there was something that remained unspoken between them, something that needed to be said. Kurt had held back from telling him, and Blaine no longer pushed him. But as a friend, Kurt thought he had the right to know.

He deserves that much for putting up with me.

He was jolted back into the choir room by Rachel Berry, who had leapt out of her seat and was now glaring at Mr Schuester, a look of fury etched on her face.

'WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T GET A FUCKING SOLO?' she screamed, as Officer Beiste quickly left her post. 'I'VE GOT THE BEST VOICE IN THIS GODDAMN SCHOOL, I DESERVE A FUCKING SOLO!'

'Rachel, calm-'

'NO, I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!' Rachel continued, as Officer Beiste began pulling her towards the door. Another officer from the outside corridor joined in to help. 'SEE THIS?' She struggled against the officers as she tried to point to the pendant hanging on a chain around her neck, but the officers held her back. 'IT'S A STAR…I AM A STAR, MR SCHUE - I AM A FUCKING STAR!' Both officers managed to push her into the corridor where her screams became muffled by the door slamming shut behind them.

Mr Schuester's voice cut through the silence of the classroom.

'Okay - let's start again,' he said, scratching the side of his temple.

Kurt sighed; he knew he had no other choice. Even if it did cost him the other boy's friendship.

…

'Hi Kurt!'

Blaine's warm greeting on seeing Kurt the following day did nothing to allay Kurt's fears. Blaine had both hands in his lap and he was shifting slightly in his seat with a little smile on his face, as if he had something to tell Kurt that couldn't wait. Kurt took a seat opposite, frowning slightly; Blaine had an expression that reminded him of an excited puppy.

'I brought you a little something,' Blaine said, and he slid something square across the table to Kurt. It was a black folder that looked familiar to the one Kurt had owned previously. 'Open it up.'

Kurt obliged, and he felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. It was an exact replica of his confiscated music folder, complete with sheet music of all the musicals and singers that Kurt had previously memorized.

'There's some in there from Wicked; they were the ones you were learning last, right?' Blaine continued, his eyes flicking between Kurt and the folder. 'I know you said they were hard to read because they had graffiti all over them, so I got you some fresh copies.'

Kurt didn't know what to say; his voice had been rendered speechless by Blaine's kindness. But Kurt had to stick to his resolve, even if Blaine had made it harder for him to do so. Kurt took a deep breath and closed the folder.

'Blaine, I think you need to know the reason why I am at McKinley.'

He saw the smile disappear off the other boy's face, and a flicker of surprise in his hazel eyes; Kurt realized it had been the first time he had called Blaine by his name. Then he saw Blaine look down into his lap, fiddling around with his blazer. He pulled out Kurt's watch and slid it across the table, edging it closer to him with his fingers. Kurt paused before picking it up, letting the brown leather band slide between his fingers. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, waiting.

He was unable return Blaine's gaze, so instead he fixed his eyes on the window behind him. The sun that had previously been concealed by the clouds had started to show itself. It seemed like a lovely afternoon to spend outside. Kurt placed the watch back down on the table and began his story.

'I grew up with my father. My mother died when I was young and so it was just him and I. I still like to keep her memory around with me so I'll never forget her.' His eyes flickered down to the watch briefly.

'My dad accepted me as I was – I remember him having tea parties with me to cheer me up when I was having a bad day, because he knew how much I liked them. And when I came out over a year ago, well, he accepted that, too. I wish I could say the same for public school.'

He paused to look over at Blaine. Blaine still had his hands resting in his lap, his head slightly to one side, listening patiently. Kurt continued.

'I always knew I was kind of different. High school gave me an opportunity to show off that side of me. You could say I was a triple-threat: I was a member of the school's glee club, fashion-savvy and gay. I was naïve in thinking people would be okay with that because my father didn't seem to find anything wrong with me. But there was a group of jocks at the school who decided to make it their mission to prove to me that I was beneath them. There was one jock in particular: Dave Karofsky. He made my life a living hell.'

Kurt paused again to look over at Blaine; Blaine gave him a silent nod, as if he didn't want to interrupt the flow of Kurt's account.

'They would pass by in the corridors and swear at me, as if I had somehow offended them by being in their line of sight. They would throw food at me during lunchtime, shove me into lockers when the teachers weren't around and when they were, they gave them a warning but didn't try to stop it. The other students would stand by doing nothing, some even laughing along with them. They threw me into the dumpster a few times, like I was a piece of garbage. Around this time, my father had a heart attack so I was going between the hospital and school, and I was tired.'

'So I thought if I kept my head down, studied hard and tried not to draw attention to myself, they would stop. But things became worse. Dave, well he…became more violent. I would get bruises every time he shoved me into the lockers. Once he was trying to get my attention and I ignored him, so he threw a textbook at me and it hit me in the eye; I covered it up with makeup so my father wouldn't see. I didn't want to be the cause of his next heart attack.'

Kurt looked down at his fingers and slowly began to rub one of his nails in a circular motion.

'Then one afternoon, I had just returned from the sick bay and went to my locker to collect my things. Everyone else was in class, or so I'd thought. Dave was in the corridor, having just come back from lunchtime football practice. He confronted me and knocked my books out of my hand. Then he swore at me and said something horrible about my dad. And that's when I cracked.'

Kurt flicked his eyes over to the window again, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

'I hit him in the face. He was taller and physically stronger than I was, so the first hit didn't do anything. So I hit him again, and again…and when he fell to the ground, I used my fists to pound him even more. I don't have a clear recollection of it…it was as if some other force inside me had gained strength and taken over. And when I stopped, there was blood on the floor…my hands were stained with it. All the yelling he had been doing had brought teachers and students out of their rooms and they stood there, staring at me in shock…like they would never have thought I had the capacity to do such a thing. That's how they found me: he was lying on the floor, crying; I was standing over him, looking down at my hands, wondering what I had done.'

Kurt looked back down to his fingers; they were clasped together on the table.

'He was hospitalized for two days. His parents sued the school and I was immediately expelled. Then they took my father and I to court. They accused him of negligence against me, and then they accused me of committing a hate crime. As if those jocks hadn't shown me anything but hate the entire year. They twisted the story around, alleging that I was the one who had harassed them, like I was some sort of sexual deviant. My father couldn't afford a lawyer after paying off his medical bills, so we had to defend ourselves as best we could.'

He dared to look up at Blaine, but the other boy's eyes weren't looking at him; they rested somewhere to the side near Kurt's shoulder.

'The judge sentenced me to eight months in juvenile detention, with a possible parole at six months with community service. I've been here since November, and now it's almost May. If I had known all those months ago that I would wind up here, I wouldn't have done it, I would have stopped myself somehow. Did I regret seeing him curled up on the floor, crying in the same way he had made me cry all year?'

His voice didn't feel like trembling this time. 'No. Not at all.'

He felt his eyes trail across to rest on Blaine's face. 'So there you have it.'

A long silence stretched between them. All the excitement that Blaine had shown minutes before had left him. His expression was unreadable. An officer walked closer to their table and Kurt through he was going to pass by, but he stopped next to him.

'Hummel, you have another visitor. It's your father.'

'Okay,' Kurt replied quietly. Blaine had said nothing, and as Kurt watched him silently, he still did not match his gaze.

'I know you might not want to visit me again, after what I have just told you. And I completely understand.'

Kurt looked down at the folder, running his hands over the dark cover.

'Thank-you for the gift; it was a lovely gesture.'

Blaine nodded, and this time Kurt didn't try to catch his gaze. He waited until he heard shuffling opposite him and the sound of footsteps walking away. He raised his head after a minute to find that Blaine had gone.

Kurt placed his hands over the folder and the watch, clutching them tightly and taking a deep breath to compose himself. The last thing he wanted was his father to start worrying about him again.

…

I hit him again, and again…

Blaine stumbled out of the meeting hall, Kurt's words ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to faint, or be sick, or both. His mouth was dry and he felt dizzy. He didn't know what was worse; Kurt's account of his crime or the way in which Kurt had said it. There had been no playfulness in his tone, no sparkle in his eyes. No sign of contrition, no remorse. Just what seemed to Blaine to be emotionless indifference.

Somehow, Blaine managed to make it to the counter of the school's reception. He asked the receptionist for the visitor's sign-in book and she slid it under the glass panel in his direction.

'Son, are you okay?'

Blaine jumped; in the midst of his preoccupation, he hadn't noticed a man standing nearby.

'I'm – I'm fine,' Blaine stammered, feeling anything but fine.

'Are you sure?' The man was frowning slightly and had a look of concern in his eyes. 'Because you don't look too good.'

'I've – I've got exams coming up,' Blaine said, trying to shake off his sympathy. 'Too many late nights.'

This seemed to make the man relax a little. Blaine looked more closely; he was wearing a flannel shirt, a grey printed t-shirt and a trucker's cap.

'Trying to make you study too hard at Dalton?' the man said, before he fixed his eyes to the name in the sign-in book in Blaine's hand.

'So…you're Blaine? Kurt told me you had found his watch out on the sidewalk. I'm Burt Hummel.' He reached out to shake Blaine's hand.

Blaine felt himself stiffen as he shook it. 'Mr Hummel – '

'Call me Burt.'

Blaine nodded. 'I – I returned it just now, I'm sorry I took so long to do so…'

Burt waved a hand to dismiss the thought.. 'Don't blame yourself, kid. I know Kurt's just thankful that you even managed to come down here and return it to him.' He smiled warmly. 'I hope he didn't scare you away.'

Blaine tried to return the smile. 'No.'

Burt nodded. 'That watch belonged to his mother…I had it engraved for him on his last birthday.'

A pang of guilt shot through Blaine, and he looked away. Burt didn't seem to notice.

'He's a…he's a good kid.' His eyes fixed upon the crest of Blaine's blazer. 'Bright, too.'

Blaine nodded silently in agreement.

'He just…made a horrible mistake. He could have walked away, but he didn't, and it cost him.' He sighed and looked over at Blaine, and there was no denying the pain behind the other man's eyes.

'When you get pushed around for so long, something has to give. If only I'd known…I would have stopped it. But he took it upon himself, like he always does. He thought it was his own battle to face.'

Burt suddenly straightened up and looked at his watch.

'Well, I'm going in to see him. Make sure you take it easy, kid – don't let them push you too hard.'

Blaine found himself standing alone in the foyer, no longer wanting to be ill after the talk with Kurt's father but feeling more confused than ever.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine found it relatively easy to block Kurt Hummel out of his life. He didn't think that Kurt would surface at Dalton again to visit him the following day and he was right. He wasn't surprised; after confessing his crime, he knew that Kurt would back off and give him space, after what Kurt had told him about not expecting to see him again. As the academic year became busier for Blaine, he was able to focus his attention on more important matters.

But after a week and a half without contact, he found himself again thinking about Kurt.

Blaine couldn't deny that he missed Kurt. He missed having someone to talk to about music and school and everything else occurring in his life. He missed having someone to turn to who he had a lot in common with, even if the other boy didn't know half of it.

Kurt had done a horrible thing – horrible because Blaine had once been on the receiving end of it. He still cringed as he remembered the blows raining down on him, the sharp pains in his stomach as they kicked him to the pavement and the cries of pain from the boy next to him. And it made him sad to think that Kurt – the boy who flirted with him, talked with him and became his closest confidant – had something in common with his perpetrators.

But Kurt had been bullied to the point where he had responded with violence. Would he had resorted to the same means had he received the same level of bullying, day in, day out, that Kurt had? Would he have fought back too? Would he have been punished for fighting back because he just couldn't take it anymore?

Then Blaine realized with a start what Kurt must have been going through during his absence. Kurt had probably never spoken about his crime since telling the judge in court, and had trusted Blaine enough to tell him. Kurt who had used his mother's watch to lure Blaine back to see him again, and in the end, letting him go because he knew Blaine deserved the truth, even if it meant Blaine would never want to see him again.

Kurt had stood up for himself and was punished. It wasn't fair.

He must feel so alone.

Blaine chided himself for not having returned to McKinley earlier. It had been a whole two weeks, and it had been far too long.

…

The first thing Blaine noticed about Kurt as the other boy walked into the meeting hall was the telltale dark patches under his eyes. They seemed to match with his messy hair, not wild and unkempt as Blaine had once witnessed it, but rather belonging to someone that did not care enough to style it.

Blaine waited until Kurt had caught sight of him. Kurt stopped in his tracks, blinking his eyes once in surprise. When he made his way over to the table he hovered behind the bench seat. The look in his eyes alternated between uncertainty and wariness, but when he spoke, his words expressed relief.

'You came back,' Kurt said softly. 'I didn't think you would.'

'I almost wasn't going to,' Blaine admitted. 'But after what you had told me, I realized it wouldn't be fair.'

He waited until Kurt had taken a seat opposite him. 'Kurt, there's something you should know about my history, too. I…haven't really told this to anyone.'

Kurt nodded slowly, indicating to Blaine that he was ready to listen. Blaine placed his hands on the table, clasping them together tightly.

'I wasn't always at Dalton, as you know. I went to a public school.'

He looked over to Kurt; Kurt was patiently waiting for him to continue. Blaine took a deep breath.

'I…um…I was bullied. Not to the same extent that you went through, but I was shoved around, spat at, had names thrown at me. Because…'

Because I was into guys, he wanted to say, but he couldn't muster up the courage to say it with conviction.

'….because I was into the arts and performing, and some people thought that was uncool. Some people had issues with it.'

He looked over to a table to his left, watching a McKinley boy with blonde hair laughing with his parents and younger siblings.

'My friend and I, we had just been to a school dance. He and I were both single at the time but we decided to go regardless. We were waiting outside on the sidewalk for his dad to come pick us up and…all of a sudden, I felt someone hit me on my side and I…fell down. And a group of guys…just began to beat us up. They started on me first, and then they went for my friend.'

Blaine moved his hand across to fiddle with the sleeve of his blazer.

'He was crying out in pain and I – I couldn't help him, so I begged for them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. My friend's dad…found us both on the sidewalk and took us to the closest hospital. We knew who these guys were, but the school wouldn't take responsibility, saying that the attack occurred off school property.'

He looked down at his hands, sighing.

'So I left. I enrolled at Dalton Academy where liking the arts was acceptable, even respected. Sure, it may be a little stuffy and traditional, but at least I know I won't get harassed there.'

He smiled bitterly; if there was one thing he could count on at Dalton, it was that he knew he would be safe.

'I'm so sorry, Blaine.'

Blaine looked up with a start; he had almost forgotten that he was telling his story to Kurt. The other boy's eyes were red and his breath was shaky.

'Kurt, are you…' Blaine's voice trailed off as he saw tears roll down the other boy's cheek. Blaine leaned forward, looking at Kurt in concern; this was not the reaction he had been expecting.

'I - I would never, ever hurt you like that. Never.'

Blaine felt his eyes widen as he understood the meaning behind Kurt's tears. They were as much for Blaine as they were for himself.

'You're…you're nothing like he was. He was mean and…and cruel. But you…you're nice and…and you listen to me and you tell me stories about Dalton…'

'Kurt - '

'And…you're so brave. After the way I behaved around you…the way I – I treated you…'

The tears were falling freely now, and Kurt tried to wipe them away on his sleeve.

'I didn't mean to hurt him so badly, I - I just wanted the bullying to stop…'

'I know,' Blaine replied softly, watching Kurt as he lowered his head to the table and sobbed quietly into the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt. It seemed to Blaine as though Kurt had held back his tears for a very long time.

He was as a loss as to what to do; Blaine wanted to say some comforting words but he didn't know what comfort he could provide to stop the other boy from crying. His eyes fell on Kurt's free hand resting by the side of his head. Without hesitation, he reached for it across the table.

The effect was instantaneous; Kurt gasped and Blaine felt his breath leave him as his fingers touched the back of Kurt's hand.

It was as though a current of electricity had passed through them, sending a shockwave throughout both of their bodies. Blaine let his hand rest over Kurt's, clasping it gently. He felt Kurt's astonished gaze searching him to see if he had felt something too. But Blaine cast his eyes downward, observing Kurt's slender fingers as they curled underneath his hand. The back of Kurt's palm felt soft and smooth and he began to slowly caress his thumb over it in an effort to calm him down. The sobs from the other boy gradually subsided, replaced by the occasional sniff.

They sat that way for a while; Blaine noticed how Kurt was eyeing both their hands on the table. He observed the other boy's chest as it rose and fell slowly with each breath. Groups of people had started to exit the meeting hall as visiting time drew to a close. Blaine gently removed his hand away from Kurt's.

'I have my first exam tomorrow afternoon so I won't be able to make visiting hours on time,' Blaine said, watching Kurt carefully.

Kurt nodded solemnly.

'There will be a spare car in our garage on Saturday, so I can visit you then,' Blaine added reassuringly. 'Is that okay?'

He could not mistake the gratitude that glistened in the other boy's blue eyes as they looked over to meet his.

'That would be more than okay.'


	9. Chapter 9

Being Thursday night, Blaine settled into his usual routine.

It had been a few weeks before that he had begun receiving more and more schoolwork from Dalton, in preparation for their upcoming end-of-year exams. Once the study period for exams had commenced, Blaine threw himself into it, filling his head with calculations and historical dates and language syntaxes, in an effort then to avoid thinking about Kurt. Despite his heavy workload, Blaine had times where he ran out of academic material to study. During those times, there was one subject not related to the curriculum that Blaine had taken upon himself to research: the art of fellatio.

He had heard his fellow Dalton students go on and on about how wonderful it was, describing in great detail the exact methods their girlfriends used that gave them such pleasure. So Blaine began researching the topic on his laptop. The first time he accidently stumbled upon video of it, he hastily closed his laptop, blushing with embarrassment. But the more he watched, the more used to it he became and he began noting down the essentials he needed; mainly, how to elicit pleasure from the one receiving it.

So he began to practice his technique – first on lollypops, then, as the weather become warmer, popsicles. He thought if it came to the point where he would be willing to offer it to someone, he would at least know what he was doing.

He thought back to a time when he had broached Kurt with the subject.

'Have you ever…um…forced someone to give you head while you've been here?' Blaine had asked Kurt one afternoon, during another visit to McKinley. 'You know, like they do in the movies?'

He knew it was an odd topic to discuss with a friend, but once the initial shock of being asked such a question had passed over his features, Kurt had considered it thoughtfully.

'No. I've threatened to use it against the boys around here as a warning rather than anything else.' Then a sudden switch in his demeanor saw him staring at Blaine suggestively. 'Why do you want to know?'

'No reason,' Blaine said quickly, shrugging off Kurt's response. He hadn't brought up the subject with Kurt since, as he didn't want his friend to think of him as some sort of pervert.

After deciding he had had enough of studying for his first exam, he kicked off his shoes and walked over to his speakers. Choosing a piece from Vivaldi, he sank onto his bed, leaning his back against the headboard, knowing that if he lay down he would probably fall asleep from study fatigue. With his mental resources already exhausted, he let his hand get to work, moving down into his trousers that he couldn't be bothered to remove. He applied a firm grip on his cock and began to stroke as the tranquil sounds of flutes and violins filled the air around him. As he continued at the same easy pace, the music became quieter and more hushed, and at the same time Kurt Hummel came into his thoughts.

Blaine slowed down the movement of his hand, unsure of what to do. The image of the other boy lingered so Blaine decided to continue through with it while thinking back to the past afternoon. Blaine had never seen anyone so vulnerable. Kurt had let his defenses fall down and cried, his tears in response to the injustice that they had both suffered at the hands of a prejudiced few. Blaine didn't want him to suffer any more. If Kurt's response at Blaine holding his hand was any indication, then Blaine wanted to make him feel better.

His thoughts drifted back to when Kurt had kissed him, when he questioned why it was wrong that it had felt so good. And Kurt's blue eyes that sparkled with delight whenever Kurt trained them on to his. And the words Kurt used to flatter and tease him and get his attention. Blaine wanted nothing more right now than to comfort Kurt. He wanted nothing more than to touch him again.

He gasped as he applied extra pressure with his hand, shutting his eyes as he thought of ways in which he could show Kurt that he could give him what he needed. Then he imagined that he was pleasuring not himself but Kurt, applying more force as he pumped and squeezed himself, the sounds of the orchestra becoming louder and louder as Blaine's breaths became more unsteady.

'Kurt...' he groaned, letting the word linger on his tongue as his hand movements quickened. His wails had become louder than the music on his speakers, and he hoped that his parents had fallen asleep downstairs in front of the television by now.

As soon as it felt it had become all too much he climaxed, his hips bucking against his hand and his head arching back against the headboard, feeling the result of his orgasm soak through his boxers and trousers.

Blaine stared up at the ceiling, panting heavily. With his hand still down in his boxers he struggled before propping himself back up against his pillow, taking in a few deep breaths to calm himself. On doing so, he caught his reflection in the mirror of his dressing table.

He was smiling.

…

When Blaine entered the foyer of the school reception at McKinley on Saturday, he did not expect to find Kurt Hummel waiting for him there.

His hair was immaculate and his blue eyes were bright and clear. Blaine felt the slow thump of his heartbeat quicken as he approached Kurt and the robust, curly-haired female officer standing beside him.

'It's nice to see you out uniform,' Kurt noted. Blaine looked down at his black t-shirt and dark denim jeans which he had paired with his red canvas sneakers.

'Well, we don't attend school on weekends,' Blaine replied jokingly, and immediately realized his comment may have been insensitive; Kurt was wearing his McKinley uniform. But Kurt laughed lightly and Blaine's heart may have felt a little lighter by hearing it.

'Come with me; I want to show you something.'

The officer escorted them through locked security doors, but Blaine was able to walk beside Kurt. It almost felt surreal that he was able to do so; Blaine felt their shoulders brush a few times due to their close proximity.

'It's usually only reserved for families on weekends, but Officer Beiste was able to make an exception for me this time.'

'Good for you to get some fresh air, kid,' the officer, who Blaine guessed was Officer Beiste, mentioned in front of them.

Before Blaine could ask where they were going, they were standing outside in the open air. In front of them lay a large expanse of grass, surrounded by a barbed wire fence which stretched out into the distance.

'This is our school oval,' Kurt announced. 'We can only use it for supervised physical education classes and on weekends with our families during afternoon visiting hours.'

Near the bleachers, Blaine could make out a blonde female McKinley student walking by with her mother.

'Thirty minutes, Hummel,' Officer Beiste said, giving Kurt a stern look. 'I want to see you show up on time for gym class this afternoon.'

'Thank-you,' Kurt replied, and Blaine was surprised to see her move over to a spot by the far wall of the building. Kurt had already started to walk on to the oval and Blaine quickly picked up his pace to fall back in step with him again.

It had been windy that morning, but now the air was still and stagnant. Grey clouds loomed ahead and the air held traces of humidity that made even the slightest exertion uncomfortable. Even more unusual than the weather conditions for what was now late May was the fact that Kurt had been wearing his long sleeved hooded sweatshirt without a single drop of perspiration showing on his skin.

'You're probably wondering why I haven't visited you at Dalton lately,' Kurt said, keeping a slow but leisurely pace beside him, his hands clasped behind his back. 'I spent yesterday with my father in his workshop. I've always tried to avoid helping him with assembling car parts because I don't like to get grease stains on me, but I assisted him this time. It was nice to spend more time together. He told me he's been spending some time with Carol Hudson, Finn's mother. We're all going out for dinner together in a few weeks' time.'

They strayed to one side of the oval, opposing the bleachers. Blaine kept his hands in the pocket of his jeans but he couldn't help himself from sneaking glances at Kurt; the way in which Kurt's brown hair seemed even lighter outside even with the sun only just filtering through, and how his eyes warmed with admiration whenever he spoke of his father. He was grateful that Kurt had left his jumper unzipped, revealing his white t-shirt and his smooth, pale neck.

'I want him to be proud of me, you know,' Kurt continued, letting his hands swing to his sides. 'I've been trying to improve myself. I haven't joined in any fights lately, you'll be glad to hear.'

'I'm glad,' Blaine responded, nudging Kurt playfully. Kurt gave a tight smile beside him and continued walking.

'The weekend classes really only meant for catch-up,' Kurt said. 'But I've been taking on a few extra subjects, hoping that it will improve my standing here. They say if I continue doing well, I might even get an early release next month, assuming I do six weeks of community service. Technically, I'm a junior so if I can catch up on my studies, I might be able to get entry into senior year at a school in the fall.'

'Where will you go?' Blaine asked. He was still reveling in the fact that Officer Beiste wasn't trailing behind, keeping a watchful eye over them.

'I don't know – whoever is willing take me.'

Blaine glanced at Kurt again; his cheeks had become rosy from their stroll together. He marveled at the way Kurt bit his lip whenever he mentioned something that concerned him.

'Or whoever is willing to accept the fact that I have an ugly past that I can't change.'

Blaine shook his head in disbelief at Kurt's choice of words, and his response slipped off his tongue effortlessly.

'You're beautiful,' he said, letting his gaze fall on Kurt's face to remind himself of the fact. He felt Kurt stiffen beside him as he turned to face Blaine, frowning at him slightly.

'Uh…right,' Kurt mumbled, looking away, his cheeks an even darker shade of pink. Blaine was trying to recall the last time Kurt had teased him when Kurt took a sharp turn to his left, indicating for Blaine to follow him. He saw Kurt walk around a large bush and disappear around the corner. Blaine followed until he reached Kurt beside the wall of a large, rusty tin shed, housing gardening supplies for the oval's maintenance. The wall was slightly shaded by the tin roof, and the area was surrounded by the branches and leaves of oak trees which gave the space a heightened feel of privacy.

'I've walked past here many times, and I never actually noticed it until I walked by here one day with my father,' Kurt explained, looking around. 'But I like it here.'

Blaine thought it was an odd place to like; the shed looked as though it had seen better days and the ground around it was dusty. A few empty plastic crates stood by the wall, looking neglected.

'Why?' Blaine questioned.

Kurt pointed a finger upwards.

'No security cameras,' he said triumphantly. 'I've checked.'

Blaine noticed how dark the area had become without the sun shining through. Then comprehension dawned on him; the bleachers were out of sight and Officer Beiste was a few minutes' walk away. They were alone. Blaine's eyes darted to Kurt, watching him with interest.

'I've never mentioned how much I like your uniform,' Blaine said, eyeing it and Kurt. He took a step forward. 'It really brings out the color of your eyes.' The other boy gave him a funny look.

'Don't say that,' Kurt muttered.

'Why not?'

'Because that's all that my wardrobe at McKinley consists of,' Kurt replied. 'Two jumpers, three pairs of track pants and four t-shirts. It's hideous.'

'Well, it looks so much better on you than it does on any of the other boys here.'

As Kurt stared at him wordlessly, Blaine took another step towards him; if Kurt wasn't going to tease him, then maybe he needed some encouragement first.

'So, what was the real reason you brought me here?' he asked coyly. 'You could have just asked if you wanted to get me alone so you could take advantage of me.'

Kurt froze, but he was able to meet Blaine's gaze with cold eyes. Blaine wasn't expecting this response.

'Kurt, I was just playing with you.'

'Well, I don't like it,' Kurt replied. He sounded hurt, as if Blaine's words had wounded him somehow.

Blaine couldn't believe what he had just heard. 'So you can tease me and I can't tease you? Bit of a double standard, don't you think?'

'It's not like that,' Kurt said quietly.

'Well then, what –' Blaine began, but Kurt cut him off.

'Is that who you want me to be?' He felt anger rising in the other boy's voice. 'Because I can be that for you, you know.'

Blaine took a step backwards as Kurt's voice became dangerously low.

'Because that's what the boys think of me here. So why don't you bring your fucking friends over from Dalton so I can lure them away and take advantage of them, because they won't bat an eyelid. You think you can just come here and teas - tell me those things and pretend that it's all okay. Well, it's not. I thought you were different - but you're just an asshole like the rest of them.'

Blaine was stunned. He observed Kurt soundlessly as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them, trying desperately to think of something he could say to break it. Kurt had hugged his arms around his chest and he was looking down, his breathing rough and unsettled.

'Kurt…why are you being so mean?'

Kurt lifted his eyes to Blaine, and Blaine didn't need to hear his answer; they spoke volumes as they held his gaze sadly.

Because I can't have you.

'No,' Blaine breathed, aware that he was speaking out loud. 'But I can have you.'

The last thing he caught was the surprised expression on the other boy's face before he leaned in and kissed him.


	10. Chapter 10

hunder rumbled from somewhere in the distance, but Kurt never heard it.

Blaine.

Blaine was kissing him. His lips were firm and deliberate as Kurt felt them press down on his own. But they were gentle, almost caressing and sweet. As soon as Kurt opened his mouth however the lips pulled away, resulting in an audible smack. His bottom lip trembled at the loss of contact and the familiar musky scent that lingered with the humid air around him. Blaine had taken a step back and Kurt quickly searched his face for a reason why.

Was this some sort of cruel joke, some payback for the same thing he had done over a month ago? But he was surprised by what he saw in the other boy's eyes; they were dark as they stared at him under his long eyelashes. They flickered once between Kurt's lips and his eyes, waiting for his response, waiting for an invitation. He was panting just as heavily as Kurt was.

Kurt barely registered that Blaine's feet had shuffled forward. He didn't know what Blaine's motives were. He didn't know whether Blaine was just trying to experiment with him out of curiosity. But none of that mattered to Kurt. Blaine, his only friend, had just kissed him, and judging by his reaction, it looked as though he wanted to do it again. As the other boy started to swiftly close the gap between them again, he needed Blaine to know that he could make him feel that wanted as many times as he wished.

…

As he felt Kurt's lips part against his, Blaine had pushed himself away, his lips having only remained just briefly. He looked into his eyes for a sign of encouragement, or even an indication that it was all okay.

But two blue eyes stared back at him blankly, and Kurt's mouth had fallen open in amazement. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling sharply.

Maybe Kurt didn't get the message the first time around. Carefully, he moved in to kiss Kurt again. Blaine took a step forward and Kurt mimicked him, and both their lips crashed together halfway. He felt the other boy's eyelids flutter closed as he responded by mustering as much force into the kiss as he could.

It was insistent tongues and warm breath and heat. Kurt's mouth was demanding and needy but it was all too much, too soon. Blaine slowed down the pace of the kiss, letting his tongue wander around lazily in the other boy's mouth. Kurt let out a groan against his lips in frustration and placed his hands around Blaine's neck, pulling him in closer, his vanilla scent filling Blaine's senses, sending them into overdrive. Kurt was taking control, but Blaine didn't want that. He wrapped his hands around Kurt's waist before shoving Kurt backwards into the wall of the shed, slamming the other boy into it. It vibrated with a noise as loud as a clap of lightning. Kurt gasped, placing his hands on Blaine's waist to steady himself. Blaine tore his lips away, moving over to kiss softly at Kurt's neck before moving his mouth to the other boy's ear.

'You have no idea how much…how much I've wanted you, Kurt,' he whispered, as he began to press hot, opened mouth kisses down the base of Kurt's neck. 'Do you…want me, too?'

Kurt grunted in affirmation, letting his head tip back to lean against the wall. Blaine frowned against him; he had been hoping for a more vocal reply.

Round two, he thought.

He dragged his lips over to Kurt's jawline, showering it with slow kisses.

'I just - didn't know it…' Blaine murmured, pressing his chest into Kurt's. 'Until two nights ago, I was - I was getting myself off…'

Kurt gave a soft moan.

'And the whole time, I – I was thinking about you…'

Kurt's moans were unlike anything Blaine had ever heard before. He had watched videos on his laptop and felt embarrassed by the overdrawn, wanton cries that he listened to through his headphones. But this was something different. They were little gasps of contentment which arose whenever Blaine kissed him deeper or pressed another part of his body against him. He groaned slightly as Kurt trailed a long, slender finger down his back.

'You think...you think we're all gentlemen at Dalton? We have…certain traditions,' he continued, enjoying the sounds of the other boy as he took in a large amount of breath. Kurt had started to sweat as much as he had, and he was worried that he would begin to overheat. He tugged the sweatshirt off Kurt's shoulders, letting it slide down his taunt arms before throwing it away, where it landed in a heap on the opposite end of the shed.

'If you – if you knew the things I had to do to be a part of the Warblers -.' Kurt's hot breath covered his own, his tongue thrusting in his mouth, swirling to capture every part of it. They both gasped at the same time as Kurt ground his hips against Blaine, and Blaine felt the unmistakable strain of his erection through Kurt's cotton sweat pants.

'Show me.'

Blaine paused at Kurt's collarbone, feeling the salty taste of sweat on his lips and Kurt's chest as it rose and fell. He wasn't sure if Kurt understood what he was asking, or if he was just testing him to see how far he would go. But then, what was it that he could show him? Suddenly Blaine realized he had been practicing in the lead up to this moment – but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he would ever get to try it with Kurt. Blaine wanted more, wanted to taste every part of him, but he knew that time was not on his side. And if it was the only chance they would be alone, then Blaine was not going to pass up on the opportunity.

'I'm…I'm going to go down on you now.' Remembering his manners, Blaine looked up at Kurt. 'Is that okay?'

He felt Kurt's body stiffen and saw the pupils in his blue eyes dilate.

'You're – wait, you're….'

'Going to go down on you,' Blaine repeated, getting a thrill from the surprise he heard in the other boy's voice. 'That is, if you are willing to let me, of course.'

There was a pause. 'I am,' he heard Kurt reply shakily.

'Do you want me to?'

'Yes.'

'Yes…what?' he asked, raising an eyebrow at Kurt. Given the situation, there was no harm in having a little fun.

'Yes...please.'

'That's better.' He was about to move down to kiss Kurt's chest but quickly held himself back.

'I'll stop, if you don't want me to.'

'Don't you dare,' Kurt hissed. Blaine chuckled, adjusting his hold around Kurt's arms.

He kissed Kurt's chest through the fabric of his t-shirt and moved to plant kisses down his torso, then his stomach. The other boy let out a whimper above him as Blaine lifted himself down to his knees, placing both hands on the side of Kurt's hips. He lowered Kurt's sweatpants slightly to graze his lips and teeth against Kurt's thigh, nibbling gently and leaving little indentations in his flesh.

Blaine was thankful for the ease of access that was Kurt's uniform. In one careful motion, he managed to push down both Kurt's track pants and underwear, hearing a loud gasp from Kurt as he did so. He drew in breath as Kurt's cock sprung free, and he felt his mouth gape open at the size of it. Gripping Kurt's thighs with both hands, Blaine darted his tongue out to capture the pre come that had formed at the head of Kurt's cock with a tiny lick. It was all it took for Kurt's legs to buckle underneath him, and he would have fallen had Blaine not caught him by the waist just in time.

'Are you okay?' Blaine asked, holding onto Kurt tightly and noticing how shaky his own breath had become. Below him, Kurt nodded fervently. Blaine had a feeling that he wouldn't last very long under him, so he used his free leg to kick a plastic crate towards them, allowing Kurt to slide gently down the shed wall until he was in a comfortable seated position on top of it.

Blaine quickly kissed Kurt's lips and returned to task, scooting closer on his knees so that he was at a better angle. Tipping his head to one side, he licked the underside of Kurt's cock before taking him in his mouth. Blaine heard a sharp bang as one of Kurt's arms hit against the wall, trying to find a grip, something to cling desperately to. Blaine began swirling his tongue around the head, getting used to the size and texture of it and Kurt moaned again, this time low and guttural, and if it wasn't the most delicious sound Blaine had ever heard in his life.

Then he began to suck down, drowning out every other sensation but touch and taste as he felt Kurt's breath rise and fall, trying to keep breathing steadily and not lose control. Kurt tasted sweet, and he'd never thought he would enjoy it, but he did, very much so. He tried to glimpse Kurt from above: Kurt's head was resting against the shed and his eyes were shut, moving under his eyelids quickly as though they were rolling towards the back of his head. His face was flushed pink from blushing.

Blaine took more of Kurt in his mouth and he began to suck harder, hearing the other boy's controlled breathing now becoming more labored and difficult. He felt Kurt squirming and wailing above him, and it did nothing to slow down the movement of Blaine's mouth. If the string of expletives that followed was any indication, then Blaine reasoned that he must be doing a fairly good job. Then again, he thought it would be hard for Kurt to string together a proper sentence while he was sucking him dry.

'Blaine…' he warned, trying to repeat Blaine's name a second time but only managing a whimper. Blaine knew what was about to happen, but it only made him grip Kurt's thighs even harder, knowing well of the soreness that Kurt was going to experience the next day. He could feel himself getting damp, but he shut the thought away and concentrated all his attention on seeing Kurt through. Then Kurt's whole body shuddered as he came, and Blaine felt a rush of warm liquid in his mouth. He reached an arm around Kurt's waist and brought Kurt closer to him as he swallowed, being mindful not to choke on him in the process. Blaine licked him until he was all clean, thankful that Kurt wasn't moving too much as he tried to regain his breath.

Blaine gently tucked Kurt back in as he tried to lift himself up, but Kurt grabbed his t-shirt, letting out a soft, low moan as he tasted himself on Blaine's lips. He felt his lower lip being sucked gently and he let himself be pulled up to the crate to sit on Kurt's lap, being wary of not sitting himself too close to Kurt's groin. Thunder rumbled low overhead, otherwise the only sound was staggered breathing, little moans and their lips smacking wetly together.

After a few minutes, Blaine felt Kurt sigh as his lips paused on Blaine's mouth, too exhausted to move them. Blaine pulled back to view him more clearly; Kurt's lips were swollen and his eyes rested on Blaine's face, almost in wonder at what had happened. He was slumped against the wall, mouth parted and Blaine had to admit to himself that he would never, ever in his seventeen years had thought he could make another boy feel this way. Thunder clapped above them again, and from somewhere in the distance came the distinct scent of rainwater.

He still had his own painful erection to attend to, and he needed to leave, fast. He could feel Kurt watching him as he moved over to the other side of the shed, retrieving his hooded sweatshirt. After a pause, he decided to place it on himself, zipping up the bottom half of it to hide the bulge in his pants. If anything, it was a reminder to him that he needed to come back to visit Kurt some time. He glanced over at Kurt and saw him breathing lightly, with a faint smile at his lips. But there was confusion in his eyes and his brow was furrowed. Then Blaine realized what he had forgotten to tell him.

Oh.

Right.

He leaned down to place his mouth near Kurt's ear, whispering as he leant another hand flat on the base of the crate where Kurt was sitting.

'I thought you might have figured it out by now, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm definitely not straight.'

He turned away to leave as tiny raindrops began to fall, but not before sneaking one last look at Kurt; his lips had turned into a wide smile and from a few steps away, he heard the gleeful sound of light laughter behind him.

…

The drive home was a feat in itself; Blaine tried to focus on the road as the warm scent from Kurt's hooded sweatshirt enveloped him. A few times he thought he would have to stop the car and pull over, but he managed to somehow make it all the way home without stopping.

Blaine didn't bother parking his mother's car in the garage when he arrived home; he killed the engine and left it in the driveway, running over to the front door to unlock it. He had barely closed it behind him when he sank down to the floor, shoving a hand down his jeans to attend to his throbbing erection. Within minutes he had brought himself to orgasm, screaming Kurt's name in the empty house, not knowing or caring if the neighbors next door could hear him. Blaine leaned his head against the door and gasped loudly as he tried to come down from his high.

His favorite jeans were ruined, but he didn't mind; he had never felt more proud of the feeling that he had given Kurt exactly what he'd always wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

The next few days without seeing Blaine felt like torture.

Kurt had trudged back across the oval in a daze, wondering if he had just imagined what had happened. He arrived back inside the school building in time for his afternoon class, soaking wet from the pouring rain. Officer Beiste insisted that he be taken to the sick bay upon viewing his zombie-like state. He was able to convince her that all he needed was a warm shower, and he was grateful when she granted his request.

Kurt quickly undressed in the empty bathroom and hopped under the warm spray of the showerhead, knowing that it would only last for seconds at most before cold water replaced it. He closed his eyes and flinched as he felt the cooler water cascade over his slightly bruised thighs, his aching cock.

Blaine hadn't just given him a blow job; he had given him one that would make him feel the effects of it for a week. But the physical soreness paled in comparison to what he now knew about the other boy that made him want to cry with happiness inside.

Blaine liked boys. And he also liked Kurt. Kurt had almost sobbed at the fact that a boy that he thought wouldn't have feelings for him had admitted that he thought Kurt was beautiful. That night, and the next few nights after, Kurt had pleasured himself in his cell, not caring who heard him cry out with delirium. In fact, he would go as far as to say he rivaled Finn in the name-moaning stakes.

He had felt a change in him since that temperamental afternoon. He could sense that the other boys had felt it, too. His sexuality, once used as a form of hatred towards others who scorned it, now became a source of his own self-nourishment. It made him feel empowered that it was his, and his alone. He owned it, and he felt proud of the fact.

He knew that Blaine had finals week and was busy with exams, but he couldn't help feeling a little miffed that he had not returned even to say a brief hello. For the past two afternoons he had waited around in the exercise yard, looking over to the outside sidewalk in the faint hope that he might catch a glimpse of a Dalton blazer that belonged to a boy with warm hazel eyes.

It was Tuesday morning, and he wondered how much longer he could hold out. He pushed away the powdered coffee he had made himself in the kitchenette of the student common room and picked up an old issue of Time magazine. It served an added purpose as a deflector of ping pong balls that were hit towards him by the boys playing on the table in the recreation corner.

Distracted by his own thoughts rather than the magazine article in his lap, he failed to notice that Noah Puckerman was speaking to him.

'He's deaf. Shit Hummel, did you even hear what I said?'

Kurt snapped his head up

'Did you just say something?'

Noah sighed audibly. 'Me and the guys are…' He paused as he sneaked a glance over at the guards talking by the kitchenette. 'Going for a little stroll this afternoon.'

Kurt knew that it was code-speak for leaving without permission.

'And this might interest me because…?'

'We're off to faggot academy. Thought you might want to pay your little boyfriend a conjugal visit.'

Boyfriend. Kurt knew Noah used the word as an insult, but he felt his chest swell at the idea.

'Evans found an opening in the exercise yard. Hudson and Chang are in. We aren't waiting around for visiting time, if you know what I mean.' The three boys in question were hovering near the barred window, the topic of their discussion kept to low whispers.

'And the purpose of this visit would be…?'

'Fuck, I don't know. Give them a scare by being on their turf. It's gonna be anarchy.' Judging by the look on Kurt's face, he snapped: 'Too bad – I didn't think you'd be such a pussy about it.' He began to wander away. Kurt knew of the risk involved. It could undo all the good that he had shown over the past few weeks. But if there was even the slightest chance that he might see Blaine…

'I'm in,' Kurt said.

…

They were walking quickly down the sidewalk in their uniforms, and Kurt thought they couldn't get any more obvious. As they approached Dalton, Kurt eyed the front gates, but Noah led them down a side street next to the school, partially flanked by leafy green oaks. With a feeling of dread, he counted the number of lenses pointing out from various parts in the precinct; the school has more security cameras than McKinley, and Kurt knew it was only a matter of time before they would get caught.

'I…uh…I think we should leave.'

'Relax, Hummel. We're just gonna walk in, walk out, that's it. Maybe piss on a statue or something.'

'One does not simply walk into Dalton,' replied Sam, guiding them over to a brick wall. He and Noah began to climb it.

'Do they have, like, their own cars?' Finn said, hoisting himself up easily to the top as he was the tallest of the boys. 'I mean, it's a private school, so they would have nice wheels, right?'

'No Finn, we're not going examine their vehicles,' Kurt replied, letting his eyes roll as he scrambled over to the top. He watched as Mike jumped up and vaulted himself over, and cursed himself for not taking dancing lessons when he was younger.

Kurt followed them as they made haste across a large expanse of lush green lawn to the largest building. He noticed that the other boys were looking around and speeding up their pace, as if they were waiting to see if anyone at the school had noticed that they were trespassing.

'So Hummel,' Noah said, slowing down deliberately so that Kurt caught up with him. 'Did you let him fuck you last Saturday? Because you've been walking around in a trance like you've been hypnotized or something.'

Kurt groaned in annoyance; was there anything else but sex on this boy's mind?

'So something did go down? Oh ho, don't spare any details.'

'It's none of your business.'

'Actually, it is. Because I just happened to see him last Saturday with your uniform on, wearing it like some sort of trophy.'

Kurt knew that Noah wouldn't leave him alone until he said something.

'He sucked me down by the maintenance shed on the oval,' he replied with a deadpan expression.

Noah snorted. 'Yeah. Right. Because I saw him leaving pretty quickly, and when he passed me at reception he smelt like se-.'

Noah stopped abruptly, and Kurt was glad he remained silent for the remainder of their walk until they stepped into the foyer of the building.

'Well…fuck me,' he heard Noah mutter beside him.

'Holy shit,' Mike exclaimed as he entered, and Kurt couldn't help but agree with the both of them. Chandeliers adorned the ceiling and plush leather chairs sat underneath it, with lamps on either side. Wood-paneled walls painted with scenery stretched down the hallway as far as their eyes could see.

Sam whistled. 'Pretty fancy,' he said. Finn had his mouth open in amazement.

They heard faint chatter from further down the hallway and they began to make their way towards the source of it. Kurt slowed down, marveling at the details in one of the painted scenes.

'Hurry up, Hummel,' Noah called back to him, but froze as a janitor walked in his path, wheeling a mop and bucket, muttering to himself.

'Kids these days, always throwing paper around…' He stopped as he noticed the group of boys, and his eyes shot to the clothes they were wearing. 'Hey! You boys aren't mean to be here!'

'Leg it!' Noah yelled, and soon they were running down the hallway, their sneakers squeaking and sliding across the polished floor. Kurt looked back; the man was speaking into a handheld transceiver. As they turned into another hallway, they found themselves face to face with Dalton students, staring at them from tables laden with books and coffee cups.

'McKinley rules, Dalton fags!' Noah shouted as they raced through the hallway. Kurt accidently knocked into a boy as he ran, and his books dropped from his hands.

'Sorry – I'm so sorry!' Kurt cried, but he couldn't stop to help him; his group was way in front of him and he had to catch up.

They burst out through the door leading to outside and found themselves again at the back of the school. They cut across the lawn towards the brick wall but Kurt, in his haste and effort to keep up, tripped and fell face first into the damp grass. Pain shot through his ankle, and as he heard the wail of sirens close by, he knew he wouldn't make it.

'Hummel, come on, we have to go!'

Kurt sat up, and saw that Finn, and a short distance away Puck, had noticed his fall. Sam and Mike had already started climbing, but they too looked back.

'You guys go on without me,' he called, as he made a move to lift himself up. The two boys hesitated.

'Go!' he shouted.

Finn and Puck took off, and at same time, a van with sirens drove around from the front of the school, into their line of sight. Kurt winced as he stood up and faced the school building a short distance away, where a small contingent had formed. Students had spilled out onto the lawn to see what the noise was all about and Kurt could see them staring and whispering to one another. His uniform, covered in grass stains, did nothing to help the situation or make him feel less embarrassed.

And that's when he saw him; a boy with dark, gelled hair edging through the crowd of taller boys before pushing his way to the front. His body froze and his mouth opened in shock as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

Kurt felt his heart flutter in his chest. He took a step forward, wincing again at the sharp pain shooting through his leg. An idea came to him; it was genius, but it would require a certain degree of insanity. But then again, he had already felt as though he had started to go insane over the past few days. He ignored the other students and directed his attention to a gorgeous pair of hazel eyes that were staring back at him with worry.

He'd be damned if he left without the other boy knowing how he made him feel.

…

Blaine was exhausted – mentally, but also emotionally – after working his way through five exams in two days, along with induction classes for his senior year. He had a row with his father earlier that morning after learning that his earlier plans for summer had changed. Or rather, that his father had changed them without consulting him first.

He felt slightly ashamed at leaving Kurt alone on Saturday when it had started to rain, and taking his sweatshirt without asking. He felt even more ashamed that he wasn't able to visit him due to the timing of his exams. He missed Kurt, and the knowledge that they would not be able to see each other for a while had made him dread his father's decision even more. He prayed that he hadn't left Kurt with a bitter taste after his last visit; he wanted to leave knowing that Kurt felt satisfied, not with the feeling that he had used him.

His attention snapped back to the room of the Warblers' council meeting on hearing the announcement of his name.

'…if not for the talent of Warbler Blaine Anderson, we would not have progressed to Regionals this year.'

'Thank-you, Thad,' Blaine replied, as his fellow Warblers applauded politely, including the two senior members of the council seated next to Thad.

'We've had an outstanding year,' Wes added, sitting back in his elevated seat proudly. 'Despite losing at Regionals we seemed to have progressed further than…'

His voice trailed off as shouts rang loud from the hallway outside. David arose from his seat quickly and flung open the door to the room.

'Watts!' he said, calling out to a boy running past in the hallway. 'What's going on?'

The boy with the surname of Watts was holding a hand to his chest, breathing shallowly.

'We just saw…here in the hallway…boys from McKinley...in their uniforms and all.'

'McKinley students? At Dalton?' one Warbler said.

Gasps of surprise and mutterings of outrage filled the room. Blaine felt his heartbeat slow to a steady thump as it drowned out the noise around him.

'But…at least one had the decency to…apologize to Smith after bumping into him.'

Kurt.

'That is of no concern to us,' Wes continued, looking indignantly at Watts. 'We have our final council in ses- Blaine Anderson!'

But Blaine was already out the door before he could finish, pushing past a startled Watts and tearing down the hallway at high speed.

He ran up to a shell-shocked student whose eyes were unblinking.

'Where'd they go?' The boy pointed a shaky finger behind him.

Blaine tore through the double doors leading to the lawns outside. A crowd had formed at the base of the building and he pushed through until he was standing at the very front of the student group.

Two boys in McKinley uniform were scrambling to get over the brick wall as another two boys hurtled towards it. But Blaine only had eyes for the one standing in the center of the grassy field.

Kurt had seen him, and was standing still a few feet away while the other boys vanished over the wall into the street. Behind Kurt, a large van bearing the words William McKinley Correctional in faded letters had arrived from the driveway from the front of the school, sirens blaring. He noticed Kurt had looked around to the other boys but he did not follow them. Blaine frowned in concern – surely Kurt would have heard the sirens by now? Then Blaine understood what Kurt was trying to do; he was stalling them.

Then Kurt linked his hands together in front of him and took a step forward, his leg hobbling slightly, letting his eyes remain at Blaine's. Blaine faintly heard the voices of the Warblers behind him, hearing Thad calling excuse me, let us pass! as the other students protested. And he sensed that Wes standing next to him. But nothing could have prepared him for what Kurt was about to do. Kurt began to sing, his voice drifting over to the crowd of students and resonating into the depths of Blaine's soul.

At last  
My love has come along  
My lonely days are over  
And life is like a song

There he was, standing alone with his hair in a mess and t-shirt stained and crumbled, pouring his heart out in song. His voice spoke of hope, and longing. Blaine didn't have much time to appreciate his gesture, as he noticed two burly male officers running across the lawn to reach him.

'KURT!' Blaine yelled, but Kurt continued singing, even when the two officers grabbed his arms from behind and cuffed him, shoving him around roughly in the direction of the van. Blaine wanted to run over and shout at them, wanted to tell them to stop hurting Kurt, but he couldn't. Instead, he held back and watched helplessly as Kurt was led away. Somehow Kurt didn't seem perturbed as they marched him over to the van.

'…a thrill that I have never known...' Kurt sang as he was pushed into the back of the van by the guards who locked the rear doors behind him. A silence had fallen over the crowd, broken only by Wes muttering a countertenor…incredible.

Then he felt the other boy's eyes direct themselves towards him.

'I take it that you know him?'

'Yes,' Blaine murmured. He could have laughed at the absurdity of Wes's question.

I think I love him.


	12. Chapter 12

On Wednesday afternoon, Blaine left quickly for McKinley, never more anxious to see Kurt. He had been able to complete his English exam in record time and was out the door as soon as the classroom clock had hit three-thirty. With Kurt's uniform sweatshirt in hand, he had requested to see him via the school's receptionist, only to discover that Kurt's visiting hours had been revoked for a week. Feeling slightly panicked, Blaine wandered around quickly to the back of the school to the exercise yard where some McKinley boys lingered in pairs and groups, hoping to see Kurt among them.

He didn't have to wait long; Blaine smiled as Kurt appeared half-hopping, half-bouncing over to the fence where Blaine stood waiting.

'Hi,' Kurt said, slightly breathless. His eyes were smiling.

'Hi,' Blaine replied, feeling slightly breathless himself. But then the events of yesterday came back to him and he felt his smile disappear. 'How are you?'

Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly and Blaine could hear the irritability in his voice. 'You blow me and then I don't get to see you for three days? How do you think I am?'

'Sorry,' Blaine replied, sheepishly. 'I've been busy.'

Then he noticed a familiar group of McKinley boys, among them the one with the Mohawk, clustered around the stairs in an unusual formation. It looked to Blaine like a makeshift guard line, and they were glancing between the two boys by the fence and the door to the school building behind them.

'What are they doing?' Blaine asked, indicating towards the boys.

Kurt turned around to glimpse them briefly. 'They're keeping watch so that we are able to have this conversation.'

'You mean they're doing us a favor?' Blaine stared at the group incredulously.

Kurt shrugged. 'It's the least they can do for me, since none of them will own up to being at Dalton. The officers will find out soon enough.'

Blaine looked down and fidgeted with his blazer pocket. 'I saw them take you away yesterday, and you were limping. I was kind of worried.'

Kurt shook his head. 'This…' he said, pointing to his leg. '…was my own fault.'

'But they hurt you, Kurt!'

Kurt sighed. 'It was a combination of all the rainfall we've been receiving lately and my own clumsiness; I tripped and fell.' He placed his hands on the bars of the fence and looked away, muttering. 'It was a stupid idea, anyway.'

'I would have done the same thing.'

He felt Kurt's eyes look over to him. 'Really?'

Blaine nodded. 'That was actually really sweet.' Blaine had once tried his hand at serenading in public and failed. Never once had he thought that anyone would serenade him.

Kurt's face flushed with pleasure. 'I'm glad you liked it,' he replied, twirling his hips slightly. Blaine thought he looked rather adorable. But there were still some matters he needed to discuss with Kurt while they were able to do so.

'I dropped off your jumper at reception and they told me about visiting hours. What does it mean for you? Will you still be up for parole next month?'

'Maybe,' Kurt replied. 'It's in the hands of the school board now.'

The afternoon sun had begun to make its presence known. It brought with it an uncomfortable heat and Blaine was lucky he didn't have to remove his blazer, as he was the in the shade of a nearby tree. A part of Kurt's hair had caught the sunlight and Blaine gazed at it, wondering how on earth a little patch of light could make Kurt look so angelic. Then he remembered that summer was only a week away. He sighed and rested one of his hands on the bars; he didn't know how he was going to break the news to Kurt.

'I had a big fight with my dad yesterday.' He sighed at how miserable he felt about his father's announcement until Kurt arrived. 'It turns out that he enrolled me in a language school for English speakers for a month. My final exams are tomorrow. We are going to the airport on Friday and we leave for Paris that afternoon.' He gazed up at Kurt to observe the other boy's reaction.

Kurt was staring at him, wide-eyed. 'You're going to Paris?'

'My dad thought it would be a good idea, even though I technically dropped language studies this semester.' He scoffed as he remembered what his father told him. 'He just wants someone who is able to liaise in French for him with his overseas business partners.'

'Yes...but...Paris,' Kurt whined, twisting his body behind the bars as if he was in agony. Blaine remembered how Kurt had once mentioned to him about his love for all things French.

'I won't get to do much sightseeing. I'll be at the school the whole day while my parents go for walks along the Seine.'

Kurt cast his eyes downward. 'You're going to run off with a cute French boy: I just know it.'

'That won't happen.' He watched as Kurt took a deep breath, as if he was preparing to say something of great importance.

'Last Saturday, when we...were on the oval...near the maintenance shed...' His eyes flicked over to Blaine's and Blaine nodded slowly, indicating for Kurt to continue. 'That was my...uh...first sexual experience. With anyone.' His face had begun to turn a light shade of pink. 'I just thought I should let you know.'

Blaine thought he should be surprised, but he wasn't.

'Mine too,' he replied. Kurt's face brightened at the admission. 'I hope I wasn't too rough.'

'Not at all.'

Blaine saw that Kurt was trying to move his fingers around a gap in the fence, and he mimicked him opposite. They were only able to brush their fingertips together due to the thickness of the bars, and they both sighed at the touch.

'And I'm...um...sorry for taking your jumper and leaving you there in the rain.'

'Don't apologize.' Kurt's tone was deep and husky. 'I would have done the exact same thing.'

Blaine laughed; he was glad to have Kurt teasing him again. Kurt pushed himself closer to the fence and Blaine breathed in his vanilla and cinnamon fragrance, which to him felt so much like comfort and home.

'I never knew you were gay.'

'You never asked. 'You just assumed that I wasn't.' Blaine glanced over again to the boys by the stairs and wondered how much time he left with Kurt. 'And besides, I've got you into enough trouble already. As I've shown you, I'm really not that innocent.'

'You, get me into trouble?' The sparkle in Kurt's eyes had returned. 'Have I corrupted you then? Because if I have...' he raised his chin defiantly and smirked. '...then I'm not sorry.'

'Neither am I.' Blaine watched in fascination as Kurt broke out into a smile, and he smiled along with him, his heart leaping for joy in his chest.

'Porcelain!'

Kurt groaned and hung his head, letting it rest on the bars of the fence. Behind him, Blaine could see the group of boys shuffling reluctantly towards the doorway of the school building and Officer Sylvester eying them and Kurt, hands on her hips.

'I have to go.'

'I know,' Blaine said, as the officer called a second time. 'I might not see you around for a while.'

Kurt fixed him with the saddest eyes, and Blaine wished that he didn't have to leave.

A silence stretched between them. Blaine knew what they were both thinking; he just wanted to see who was brave enough to say it first.

'I'll miss you.' Kurt's voice was sincere.

'I'll miss you, too,' Blaine responded.

'At least I'll know where to find you.' Kurt released his grip on the bars, and Blaine could sense his reluctance to move.

'Bye,' Kurt whispered, and he slowly turned away to begin his walk back to the school building.

'Bye.' Blaine watched Kurt as he walked up the steps of the school, but paused by the doorway to look back at him. Kurt had placed one hand over his chest, lightly touching the area where his heart was.

Then he was gone. Blaine released his hand from over his own heart and let it drop by his side.

It was going to be one long summer.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been three weeks since Kurt had learned that Blaine would be leaving for Paris. Classes at McKinley had become less frequent, so Kurt spent the majority of his time reading in his cell. He found it more comfortable indoors away from the harsh sun while the other boys preferred to squeeze as much time as they could outside in the exercise yard. Sometimes he would be given permission to sit and read in the shade of the courtyard, where opposite a few girls from McKinley could be spotted sunbaking and trying to disguise the fumes from their cigarettes.

He began to study the French language a little each day to wile away the hours and the boredom. Blaine had told him that he wouldn't get to see much of Paris, but Kurt couldn't shake the thought that Blaine would meet someone without a criminal record at language school, fall under his charm and then he and said boy would run off to the south of France together, possibly Nice. The thought had kept his sleep at bay for one night, before he reminded himself of Blaine's promise and that he really needed to rest; his parole meeting with the school board happened to be the following day.

…

'Kurt Hummel, as you know, I am Superintendent Figgins, principal of William McKinley Correctional School for Boys and Girls, and also chairman of the school board. We are meeting with you this afternoon, to see if it is suitable for you to be integrated back into society. Do you understand what we are trying to achieve here?'

'Yes, sir.'

Kurt found himself seated at a table opposite three men at midday. The parole hearing room was bare save for the furniture in which they were using.

'Okay.' Kurt watched as Figgins accepted a document passed to him by one of the men, and lowered his glasses to read from it.

'First sent to McKinley in late November last year, sentenced to eight months and served almost seven months. No incidents apart from the one that delayed this hearing for two weeks. Trespassed on private property with other students however no act of vandalism was committed.' He looked up from the paper and observed Kurt through his glasses.

'You have been doing very well, getting top grades in all your classes. Care to tell us why you chose to do this?'

'Well, I – '

'It was established that Mr Hummel was the only one of the group, which included Noah Puckerman, that confessed to the incident,' spoke one of the men, cutting Kurt off.

'Noah Puckerman – say no more,' Figgins replied, raising his hand. He picked up another paper.

'I can see here that Officer Sue Sylvester has put in a good recommendation. I know that she speaks very highly of you. She says you have not been involved in any acts of a violent nature since your crime, correct?'

'Yes, sir.' Kurt hesitated for a moment. 'Sir, if I may?'

He felt the eyes of all three men staring at him.

'Yes?' Figgins asked.

Kurt took a deep breath. 'I would just like to say…that…I've been attempting to put things right these past few weeks. With the exception of leaving McKinley without an officer's permission, I have chosen to remain out of trouble by pursuing language studies. So eventually, when I am released, I will be able to return to a mainstream school in time for senior year and then, possibly gain entrance to college. I have learned from my past mistakes, and I assure you what happened in the past will never happen again. If you will let me…I would like to take that chance to prove to myself that I can do better, and that I can succeed.'

He watched as the three men leaned in closer to one another, talking in low whispers. After a few minutes of discussion and more exchanging of papers between them, Figgins clasped his hands firmly on the table and looked over to Kurt.

'Kurt Hummel, after careful consideration, we, the school board, have decided to grant you parole effective this Friday, providing that you complete a minimum of one hundred and twenty hours of community service during this time. Congratulations, and may you prosper in your future endeavors.'

…

Friday happened to fall on the week that Kurt would have been granted day release from McKinley. But this time, he wasn't coming back.

Officer Sylvester had ensured that he had cleared his cell of his personal belongings, including his watch and music book which he stored safely in his satchel. She escorted him to the reception area where she left him with a 'Good luck, kiddo' and a pat on the shoulder before returning to guard the student common room.

His father was waiting for him in the foyer.

'All set?' He picked up a plastic bag containing Kurt's clothing by the counter.

Kurt nodded, and they began to make their way outside to the front of the school in silence. They reached the green truck parked outside the front gate.

'Put your things back here,' Burt said, opening the door to the back seat. Kurt placed his satchel down while his father placed the bag beside it. He had barely let his father shut the door before Kurt had thrown his arms around him in a generous hug. Burt gave a surprised chuckle before he placed his hands around his son, holding him close. After what seemed like a long time, Burt let go, observing Kurt at arm's length.

'Let's go home,' Burt said, his voice soothing. Kurt sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

…

It had been the start of another busy day of gardening. Kurt paused with his shovel to wipe the sweat off his brow, trying to avoid the glare of the mid-morning sun which burned through the clouds overhead.

He had decided to complete his community service all at once, which equated to approximately seven hours a day, six days a week over a period of three weeks. His parole officer had suggested that he complete it where he felt he owed something to, and Kurt knew of the perfect location. Luckily, the place needed an extra hand to assist with gardening, and Kurt, despite knowing nothing about removing weeds or mowing lawns, was only too willing to learn.

Secretly, he counted himself the best dressed out of all the gardeners that worked there. He had turned up on his first day in grey overalls and a white buttoned-up t-shirt, and he hadn't deviated much from the same outfit. His supervisor, Tony, had shown him the proper way to care for seedlings and how to shape the hedges to his liking. Over the past week, he had assisted with laying down the pavement and bricks for a new passageway. It was hard work, but Tony was a kind man, and a bit of a character. Kurt sat with him on the bonnet of his truck during lunch breaks, eating sandwiches while Tony told him stories about work and his time in prison for armed robbery.

Finn had been granted parole the week before Kurt's release, and Burt had agreed to let him work alongside him at the workshop. He had enrolled in community college to study car mechanics in the fall, and had planned to join the local football team next season. Finn was able to alternate between visiting Rachel and Puck at McKinley, as they were only granted visits once every two weeks. Kurt noticed the last time he had returned from visiting Rachel that he had been left with scratches all over his face. Finn didn't seem to mind; he was grinning as he told Kurt how many fights Rachel had been involved in at the school.

He and Carole had also been spending more time at the Hummel's residence. Kurt had picked up baking tips that he couldn't possibly have learned from the cookbooks he read and they often cooked dinner together in the evenings. His father had been meaning to propose to her and Kurt was looking forward to planning the wedding, but was also looking forward to moving house, which meant that he would soon be receiving a brand new room.

During his afternoon breaks, Kurt would be allowed to roam the campus. The buildings were locked, but that didn't stop him from looking through the windows at the empty rooms, the silent commons and the expansive library full of every book on every academic subject imaginable. He couldn't stray far, as it would take him too long to walk back and he only had fifteen minutes, during which time the other gardeners would take a smoking break and discuss their plans for the weekend.

One morning, he had come to the aid of a smartly-dressed man in a dark suit, who had dropped his open briefcase near the front entrance of the school where Kurt was working nearby. He managed to salvage the flyaway papers before they were taken away by the wind. He soon discovered that the man was head of campus, and he began to greet him whenever he saw him on the grounds. They had a pleasant exchange one afternoon during which the man had asked Kurt his age ('almost eighteen') and his background, including his time prior to being at McKinley. He had promised Kurt that he would invite him and his father to a meeting in his office within the next week.

Kurt dug his shovel into the dirt, leaning his arms on it to briefly rest. He sighed as he tried to imagine what Blaine would be doing on the other side of the Atlantic. He would be sleeping, but in Kurt's mind he was sharing a baguette with his classmates by the Eiffel Tower while they conversed in textbook French.

He only wished the summer would end sooner so that he could see Blaine again.


	14. Chapter 14

'You should get some fresh air, Kurt.'

Kurt looked up from his note book, startled. He was surprised that he did not hear his father enter his room. He had been in study mode for most of the afternoon and had barely moved from his position on the bed.

'I'm just reading over my notes,' Kurt replied. In reality, his mind had drifted to Blaine for the past half-hour and he wondered if the other boy had returned to Ohio.

'Well, you've spent five hours looking over notes,' Burt answered, taking a seat on the edge of Kurt's bed. 'I know you're used to being cooped up all the time, but if you continue like this, you're gonna start losing brain cells instead of making new ones.'

Kurt stared down at his handwritten words as he quietly traced the dried ink with his fingertip.

'Dad, I really want this.'

'I know…' Burt paused. 'It's that boy from Dalton - Blaine, isn't it?'

At the mere mention of Blaine's name, Kurt felt an overwhelming warmth expand through his chest. The familiar ache in his heart returned, the same one that had left him lying awake in bed for a few nights after Blaine had left for Paris; he didn't think he could ever miss anyone so badly. Kurt sighed and closed his note book.

'I owe him so much. He came back to visit me even after I told him what I had done. He's shown me nothing but kindness and…I feel happier when I'm around him, I really do.'

Finn's loud announcement from somewhere in the house cut through Kurt's reverie.

'Mom! I'm going to McKinley to visit Puck!'

'Okay!' Carole shouted back. The bedroom was silent once more.

Kurt looked up at his father and despite what was happening within him, he could feel himself smiling.

'He's just like me, Dad.'

'Really? How so?'

Kurt didn't respond, and after a brief pause he heard his father reply with 'Oh.' Burt sighed, but it sounded to Kurt as it if was in relief.

'I'm glad to hear it. You're smart, Kurt. You'll get in.' Burt rubbed his son's shoulder before standing up and stretching.

'Now…will you mind helping out in the kitchen? I left the soufflé in the oven and I don't know how long it's supposed to stay there.'

Kurt felt his mouth drop open in horror.

'Dad – soufflé should never be left on its own!'

'Well, I tried calling you before to help me out…' Kurt ran past his father, hoping that he might be able to save what was left of the dessert.

…

Blaine drove around to the back of the school where the sidewalk met the fence along the exercise yard. He put on the parking brake and killed the engine. One of the things he appreciated about his summer break was that he had time to get used to his new car, which his parents had organized for him before they left for Paris. However, his first thought from returning to Ohio the day before was to visit McKinley, and more importantly, Kurt.

He thought he would hate his time at the Parisian language school, but he discovered that that there were certain aspects of it that he actually enjoyed. He didn't have to wear a uniform, for starters, and he became proficient at ordering his lunch while on their hourly lunch breaks. There were certain things in Paris that reminded him of the boy who was waiting for him back home: the delectable scent of a cinnamon bun he purchased one morning at a patisserie; the slender marble hand of a fountain statue; the sight of a young gay couple kissing on the grass near the Eiffel tower. However, Blaine's first week was spent trying to avoid the advances of a blonde Swedish girl, who was convinced that he was attracted to her. It was only after she witnessed him sketching Kurt's name in a love heart in his note book that she realized he wasn't interested, and Blaine was thankful when she stopped attempting to flirt with him.

He stepped out of the car and carefully approached the back fence, craning his neck to see if anyone was there, but the place seemed empty. Blaine hoped he would be allowed a visiting appointment at McKinley's reception and he made note to move away, but a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

'Hummel ain't here, if that's who you're after.'

Blaine looked over to the source of the voice. A hooded figure of a young man was sitting up on a ledge nearby, smoking. He hopped down and removed his hood, and Blaine recognized his distinct Mohawk hairstyle immediately. He didn't flinch as the taller boy leaned his arm against the bars of the fence, dangling his cigarette through a gap. Blaine tried to remain still; he felt he had to keep his own voice cool and detached.

'Oh. Did he get released?' Blaine asked, his expression unconcerned.

'Around four weeks ago.' Blaine felt his insides doing a little victory dance; Kurt was free. Now all he needed to know was where to find him. But he knew he had to exercise both patience and caution.

'May I ask what your name is?'

The boy took a drag from his cigarette.

'People around here call me Puck.' Puck blew out a cloud of smoke through one of the gaps. Blaine blinked, but once again resisted from sudden movement.

'I've seen you around before. You're that little fag from Dalton.'

'Actually, my name is Blaine,' Blaine answered coolly.

He watched uneasily as Puck grinned, baring some of his teeth.

'Right. So…where's your blazer? Is it the weekend or something?'

'Actually, I'm on summer vacation,' Blaine replied. 'I don't return to Dalton for another month and a half.'

'Damn, no wonder it's been so quiet around here.' Puck squinted as the sun bore down on him. 'So,' he said, smoothing down his own t-shirt. 'Does it work? Picking up chicks, I mean.'

Blaine's answer came to him in a flash:

'Well, I've never actually used it to pick up chicks.'

Puck nodded absentmindedly, but after a moment he gave a bark-like laugh as he understood the meaning behind Blaine's words.

'Guess that's how you bagged yourself Hummel then, huh? Smooth, bro.'

Blaine felt himself relax a little, nodding to Puck in assent. But he still needed to know what had happened with Kurt.

'Any chance that you might know where Kurt is?'

'No clue,' Puck replied, and Blaine felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He watched as Puck dropped the cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with one of his thick rubber soles. 'Come back in a week – I'll have the info for you by then.'

Blaine had spent over a month and a half without Kurt, waiting for the day when they would be reunited once again. He could surely wait another week.

…

Blaine returned to McKinley one week later, exactly the same time as his previous visit. After waiting for twenty minutes, he saw Puck emerge from the school building and stroll across the empty exercise yard, over to the fence where he stood waiting.

'Sorry bro,' Puck said, though he didn't sound like it. 'Was out having a ciggie with the officers.'

He couldn't deny that Puck had been out for a smoke (he reeked of it), but Blaine couldn't believe that the officers had been so careless as to allow it.

'Do the officers let you smoke around them?'

'Course,' Puck replied, shrugging his shoulders. 'They know I ain't going nowhere.'

Blaine felt a sudden tinge of sympathy for the other boy; he heard a slight bitterness in his words, despite his determination that he wasn't going to change any time soon. Puck gave a quick glance behind him before leaning forward eagerly, as if he was about to reveal a big secret.

'Word I got from Finn is, he'd been doing three weeks out at some place. He wants in and he needs to prove himself, so if he does well, they might take him on as a student or something.'

It took a little while for Blaine to process Puck's words.

'As a student?' Blaine asked. 'Where?'

Puck didn't answer him straight away.

'Just some punk-ass rich school. I don't think you would have heard of it.'

Puck was staring at him, his lip slightly curled in a smirk. Blaine frowned and directed his line of sight elsewhere.

No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

He hadn't noticed that Puck has walked away, and they were now a fair distance apart. Blaine felt he almost had to yell for Puck to be able to hear him.

'Wait - hold on…are you saying it's - '

'I'm not at liberty to disclose, bro,' Puck called back before disappearing into the school building. He left the other boy standing by the fence, looking on in frustration.


	15. Chapter 15

Blaine Anderson locked his car door with the remote in his hand and slipped it into his satchel. He joined the crowd of uniformed boys ambling their way from the student parking area to the landscaped lawns in front of the school. The school bell signaling the start of the day was yet to sound. Despite the cool morning temperature, some students had chosen to talk to one another outside on the lawns instead of making their way inside. Blaine recognized a few faces among them; he waved to Nick and Jeff when they called out a greeting to him.

The morning sun began to shine hazily through, but it was nothing compared to the buzz that he could feel in the air, the anticipation of the beginning of another school year. Blaine had appreciated the break from studying and homework that summer had provided, but he had been anxious to return to Dalton Academy after experiencing bouts of loneliness at home. Coincidently, he knew that he didn't have much time remaining at Dalton and he couldn't wait to leave, to be free not only of the constraints of the school, but also that of his father, and the control he had over Blaine's life.

There was also another reason that Blaine couldn't wait to begin the school year, and it made him curse the fact that Dalton always included more days of summer vacation.

Blaine held on to the strap of his satchel as he moved around the groups of boys conversing animatedly with one another. Being that there were too many students clustered the main building entrance, he slowed down his pace, knowing that there was still plenty of time before classes would start. He passed one of the large oak trees that lined the side fence which consisted of brick walls interspersed with iron bars.

'Bonjour, mon amour.'

Blaine stopped at the sound of the voice, and backtracked a few steps before he saw its source. As he took in the sight of the boy who had spoken, he couldn't believe that he had walked right past him. Blaine leaned casually against the trunk of the oak tree beside him as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his blazer. He couldn't hold back the smile that had formed on his face.

The boy was leaning against the brick wall, arms folded and one leg crossed over another gracefully. His pale skin contrasted with his bright blue eyes, and his light brown hair reflected golden under the sunlight. His Dalton uniform was polished and new and he had a satchel slung over one shoulder. His face revealed only a hint of a smile, but his eyes were beaming with delight.

'I was wondering when you'd show up,' Blaine said. He gestured to the other boy's uniform with a nod of his head. 'The blazer seems to fit you perfectly.'

Kurt Hummel blinked slowly and shifted his body slightly.

'How did you know that I was accepted into Dalton?' Kurt asked, looking puzzled.

'I kind of figured it out.' When Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow, Blaine continued. 'Actually, Puck tipped me off that you were released. I paid a visit to McKinley back in July and I was hoping that he would have passed on the message that he had seen me over to Finn, and then over to you.'

Kurt was silent for a moment, but when he spoke, his voice was breathy.

'Cute and smart,' he replied, his eyes gazing over at Blaine with affection. 'I think I'm in love.'

Blaine laughed lightly, but he knew that Kurt wasn't mocking him; his expression was dead serious.

'However, considering that they failed to tell me this information, I am going to kill them both,' Kurt added, the change in his tone indicating his displeasure.

'So, how did you get in?' Blaine asked.

Kurt unfolded his arms and left them to rest on the wall behind him.

'I did my community service here at Dalton in June,' he began. 'I was fortunate enough to be seen by the headmaster and he could see that I had potential, so he suggested that I try for a scholarship since my father was unable to pay for tuition fees. I studied all summer for the entrance exam and I passed with flying colors. I have to report to my parole officer every fortnight and they will keep a close eye on me while I'm here, but otherwise I am free to do as I wish.'

He sank back further against the wall behind him and looked over at Blaine with teasing eyes. 'Including bothering you as much as possible.'

'If I let you,' Blaine said, taking pleasure in where the conversation was going.

'If you let me. If you don't consider it criminal behavior.'

'Why would I think that?'

'Considering where I've come from, you have every right to have your suspicions about me.'

'Trust me,' Blaine replied. 'I already know what you're capable of.'

Blaine had meant it as a joke, but he watched in horror as Kurt's smile faded rapidly.

'Oh - Kurt, I didn't mean it like that.'

Kurt didn't meet his eyes.

'Blaine - I'm sorry…'

'Don't be.' Blaine stepped forward to diminish the gap between them. 'I could have gone down that same path, but I didn't. I ran away instead of standing up for myself. I let them win. We were both bullied, Kurt, and for what? Just because we love differently from most people doesn't give anyone else the right to make us feel bad about it or make us feel less worthy of their respect. There aren't many guys who can say that they've experienced the same struggles as we have.'

Kurt watched his fingers as he stroked them over the back of his hand. It seemed to Blaine as if he was thinking something over.

'Maybe boys like us should stick together,' he answered softly.

'Definitely,' Blaine replied. 'I think it would be a good idea.'

Kurt raised his head but his eyes were still averted. 'You've made me want to become a better person. I have you to thank for that.'

'You're most welcome. Besides, you've confirmed for me what I had known for a while. I'm really only attracted to guys.'

Kurt nodded. He looked over at Blaine with hopeful eyes.

'Does that mean we can still be friends?'

Blaine didn't hesitate as he reached out to hold Kurt's hand in his own, feeling the smooth skin underneath his. If Kurt was going to be his boyfriend, then he knew it was the gentlemanly thing to do. He didn't want to leave the other boy doubting.

'I think we're past that,' Blaine answered, tilting his head to one side as he looked up at Kurt. 'Don't you?'

He watched as Kurt's face lit up with a smile so warm that he felt the glow of it radiate to his heart. Blaine smiled back in response. He stepped away from Kurt and tugged at his hand.

'Come on, let's find your locker.'

He noticed that Kurt was hesitant, and was looking down at their hands and then at the other students with uncertainty.

'It's okay,' Blaine said, reassuring him. 'It's really not much of a big deal around here.' He gave another tug of Kurt's hand and Kurt moved forward, reaching over with his other hand to brush off the dust from the tree trunk that had fallen on Blaine's shoulder. They began to make their way across the lawns to the main school building. Kurt was walking so close to him that he breathed in the scent of vanilla and cinnamon spice on his skin. Blaine was comforted by the fact that Kurt was able to trust him enough to hold his hand. But he still looked around a little warily, and Blaine knew that it would take Kurt some time to adjust to the other students and the school environment.

Many of the Dalton boys were already inside at their lockers and the remaining few had started to make their way over to the entrance. Blaine and Kurt joined them a distance behind, their hands clasped together tightly.

'I will have to introduce you to the other Warblers,' Blaine said, after a stretch of comfortable silence. 'They were very impressed with your vocal range when you gave that impromptu performance in May.'

He felt Kurt freeze beside him and come to a halt, forcing Blaine to stop and look behind him. The sparkle in his eyes had vanished and he looked fearful.

'Warblers?' he whispered.

Blaine frowned at Kurt's sudden change in demeanor, but then he remembered what he had told him back at McKinley.

'You know that thing I said about what I had to do to get into the Warblers? Well…I lied.'

'You did not.'

Blaine winced slightly, though it wasn't at Kurt's intonation. 'I kinda did.'

Kurt sighed in relief. 'So all that was just…'

'…to show to you that I was capable of going through with it,' Blaine finished for him. 'Even though you were the first person I've ever…given that to.'

Kurt started to walk again and Blaine walked beside him, still clutching his hand.

'Well, then,' Kurt said after a pause, and his voice was a little deeper. 'Remind me to return the favor.'

Blaine almost choked on his own saliva.

'Let – let's get you settled in first,' he stammered, trying to ignore the warmth that threatened to flood his cheeks.

'You must tell me all about Paris,' Kurt continued, letting their hands swing together and smiling at the pink tinge that had started to form on the other boy's face.

Blaine knew how eager Kurt was to learn about his time in Paris, and he wasn't fazed when Kurt corrected him on his pronunciation of the names of localities in French. Kurt was bright, after all; there was no doubt in Blaine's mind that Kurt would thrive academically at Dalton. He listened just as eagerly as Kurt pointed out the flowers he had planted, and the passageway he had helped create by the entrance.

After spending three months apart, Blaine couldn't believe how lucky he was that he had the opportunity to see Kurt every day, without such things as barred fences and visiting hours confining them. He could see how happy the other boy was to have his freedom, to be at a place where he did not have to endure taunts and bear the ridicule of others because of who he was. And he was grateful for being able to do the things that restricted them both before.

Kurt may have slipped his hand in Blaine's under their desks during the English Literature class they shared together. And Blaine may have taken Kurt down to another oak tree by the edge of the courtyard out of sight of everyone else, where they stole kisses from one another for the whole of lunchtime. One day, they would walk by McKinley in their Dalton uniforms, only to be greeted by a group of reform boys by the back fence, eager to catch up on the latest news from the outside.

As a Dalton Academy student, Blaine knew that William McKinley Correctional had a bad reputation. Like the other Dalton boys, he thought that nobody of good character could be found at the school, and for once he was right. He glanced over to the other boy who had been contemplating him with sincere and gentle blue eyes. The best that McKinley had to offer had left, and Blaine couldn't wait to spend more time with him.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Also I hate Klaine... Sorry. I don't know why I'm doing this!


End file.
